Wrong Target Novels & Stories

As soon as I made it in the door, Zaria begins to tell me that today wasn't going to get any better. I took a deep breathe and prepared myself for the mountain of bad news. "What happened?" I asked. "We mixed up two orders again and the big oven has gone out." She replied. I just couldn't believe my day. I went in my office and closed the door. I needed a moment to get myself together. I called my delivery guys and sent them back to the events they had delivered the cupcakes. I had them both switch addresses and had them deliver to the right customers. At this point was fustrated. I had to pause a minute. I felt a small headache coming on. I still needed the oven fixed.

Instead, I moved into a very small apartment in the southern part of the city. The place only had two rooms. The windowsill was narrow, and the kitchen was small. Compared to the Newman estate, it looked shabby, like a completely different world. However, on the first night I slept there, I slept more peacefully than I had in the past five years. The next day, I went to the hand clinic I had already scheduled. The doctor removed the brace and examined me again before finally telling me with regret that the old injury in my right wrist had been delayed for too long. Although the bones had healed, the nerve and tendon damage would be very difficult to fully reverse.

The Source Code Dimension trembled. The sterile, glowing white numbers scrolling across the infinite floor began to violently stutter, bleeding a chaotic, messy crimson. The Prime Analyst’s perfect, symmetrical face twitched. "Error. Target is resisting the Factory Reset. This is impossible. Your base data contains no countermeasures against root-level formatting."

I put my phone away and looked out at the coastline rushing past the window. After making him wait a few seconds, I said, “Temporarily approved.” He did not answer. But when he took my hand, he held it a little tighter. This relationship had begun absurdly and gone wrong spectacularly. But so what? At least this time, I had not loved the wrong person.

I ignored the crowd of onlookers and turned to the staff at the counter. "A refund is fine," I said. "But you need to clearly state on the refund form, in writing, that the ticket was refunded because seats on your airline were oversold and I was forcibly denied boarding." I didn't want the Castilles to come looking for me later and think that I had deliberately broken our agreement. I definitely wasn't going to take the fall for this. Barney's expression darkened, and he slammed his hand on the counter.

I look back at my case study options and I add a fourth one and then immediately cross it out before I can finish writing it. But the two words are still visible under the single line. False testimony.

It's just some random number. *Hello, sweetie!* It says. Probably some drunk slut who hit the wrong number. As I want to delete this I get another text. *It's me, Monika. Don't dare to ignore me!* She texted. How the hell did she get my switzgerman number? ... (to be continued)

ABANDON. To desist in doing, practicing. To forsake despite a duty or responsibility. Dylan had specifically requested his therapy sessions be with Anna Davenport but couldn’t hold his anger at the notice that he had been reassigned to a different doctor. Who the hell gave the fuck about someone bearing Lucas?

I blinked, "what?" "When you want to deliver a decent right hook, it's not about throwing yourself at the target. You'll lose your balance easily that way. Plant your feet on the ground and remain unshakable on your feet. They don't have to move along with your, your hips will do most of the heavy work of throwing your weight." I chewed my lip as I considered his unsolicited advice. "Thank you," I said begrudgingly through gritted teeth. "Thank me by not going to the party," was all he said, before strolling out of the garden, silent as ever.

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