Imo Needless to say my fucking car wouldn’t start and it made that noise when it finally decided to cooperate that can wake the street. I looked a...xiously at our, no, her bedroom window but was relieved to see the light remained off. I’d had the misfortune to lose the tenant in my own place only two weeks before. Was that what had made me, or allowed me to do this? Stop agonising, Imo, it’s done. The flat was cold, dark and miserable and the cow who’d rented it had knicked the lightbulb in. Today, it was simply the way things were.Joyce – that was her name – felt a cool breeze as the door behind her opened, then closed. She knew better than to turn her head; her focus was on her work, even when she sensed – smelled – the sweatshop’s owner breathing on her neck. She’d become on of his favorites lately, a designation she could well do without, but dared not mention aloud. Sam, the owner, was a fat, balding man with dark sweat marks staining his shirt. Secretly, Joyce wondered. More

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