I catch the sparkle of green in her eyes but try to focus on the sun’s slow crawl across the sky. My breaths are erratic and my heart wishes for this entire scene to be played out in black and white. She whispers something that I can’t hear, maybe a few words that will calm my nerves, a few soft syllables that will crush the white noise in my head.

Claire turns to me, places a quick kiss on my cheek and I forget that we’re in the cold light of morning. She glides a finger across the door and traces a triangle on the pieces of chipped maroon paint. Claire tears a strand of loose wood and smiles. “This is it. We’ll talk for a little bit, then take the box.”

I nod and my soul is lost somewhere in her pheromones, the aphid allure that can only poison my blood and leave me for dead. She’s beautiful and I could follow her anywhere. She knocks three times, pauses, then knocks twice. The door is hollow and the sound of her fist banging against the wood startles me.

The door creaks open and reveals a slice of filthy electricity, a haze of beige light that spills onto a cracked and broken table in the middle of the living room.

Claire pushes through and tosses her purse on the table. “Let’s get some light in here, guys.”

The man in the corner of the room chuckles, his arms crossed over a black dress shirt with the top button open.

“Well, hello, Claire. Thanks for joining us this morning.” He steps forward and sighs, a light drone of breath and dust.

Claire grabs my hand, pulls me away from the door and towards the scene. Her touch anesthetizes me and only for a minute is my ghost hovering above the room, looking down on her bullet train of a body, blonde hair hanging over her face.

She starts to speak and my eyes are washed with a grey glow. “I believe you’ve met Jake before, haven’t you, Cash?”
​
Cash uncrosses his arms and nods. “Heard a lot about you, Jake. You have quite the reputation with our girl, here.”

I calmly stick out my hand and he returns the limp fish grip. My fingers quickly shy away from his touch. “You know what we’re here for, Cash. Where’s the box?”

Claire takes a deep breath and takes a seat at the misplaced table in the center of the room. I stand behind her, trying to look out the charcoal-colored smears on the room’s lone window. It betrays the sun, refusing to acknowledge any of the morning light. Cash turns the other chair around and sits with his arms draped over its top arc. He reaches into the back of twill dress pants and pulls out a gun

Claire slides forward in her seat. “Cash, we want this to be over with just as much as you do. Just give us the box and we’ll head out of here. You’ll never see either one of us again.”

Cash places the gun on the table and spins it. It whines for a few seconds and the barrel tip points directly at Claire. She bites her top lip and looks up at me, eyes that sing with desperation. Her nose crinkles with a touch of fear, evident in the ripples of her voice.

“Stop fucking around, Cash. We want to leave. Where’s the box?”

Cash closes his eyes and hums a tune that only he knows. He raises his arms, fingers reaching out into the grimy air. With a snap of his fingers, an older woman with overly tanned and orange skin walks out of the darkness. She’s holding a package wrapped in thick brown paper. She winks at Claire before she sets it down on the table next to the gun.

“Mary, this is exactly what these lovely people have been looking for,” Cash says.

He stands up and kisses Mary’s forehead. She has the features of a posh priestess, black slices of hair in a sea of grey.

Cash sits down at the table again and looks at me. “You always let her do the talking?”
​
I spit on the floor in front of him and resist the urge to reach into the inside pocket of my jacket. The gun is still nestled within, resting comfortably amid a cigarette lighter and some hard candy.

“We’re taking the box, Cash, and then we’re leaving. Claire, grab it and let’s get the hell out of here.”
​
Cash quickly takes the gun from the table and aims it at me. “Not yet. Tell me what’s in there and you both can leave, we’ll never talk about it again.” He clicks off the safety and the flush of gunmetal blue is a momentary riot.

Claire kicks the chair from under her and forces both of her palms on the table. “Cash, knock it off. We don’t know what’s inside the box, we never did. The boss told us that you were going to hand it over to us, no questions asked.” She rattles the table with apprehension.

Mary is silent, standing next to her man. Her hands are locked behind her back. Her face is void of emotion but her eyes are toxic drops of rage that parallel with the gun in Cash’s hand, the same gun that’s only a few feet away from putting a hole in my chest.

“That’s bullshit.” Cash grabs the box and hands it to Mary. She begins to walk out of the room and I pull out my own gun, locked in a straight line at her. She freezes in her steps, peering at me for a brief moment.

“This isn’t how we wanted this meeting to go,” I say, teeth clenched, half biting the insides of my cheeks. The metallic quality of my blood is refreshing, the taste of unbridled frenzy. “Tell Mary to hand the box to Claire. I’ll put the gun down, you’ll put down yours, and we can all move along with our day.”

Cash smiles and puts his free hand in his pocket, the other deadened in a grip on the gun pointed at me. “I just want to know what’s in there, Jake. A few words, maybe a full sentence, that’s all I’m asking of you.”

Claire’s bangs hang in her face, dangling like golden ice. She takes quick breaths. “We told you, we don’t know what’s in there.”

Cash takes a step closer to me, the gun unmoved. “I have a lot of respect for your boss. I had the decency to keep that box closed when my guys found it. I could have easily smashed it open and found out for myself. I asked a simple question: what the fuck is in the box?” Cash slams his fist into the wall, particles of aged dust stuck to his knuckles.
​
Claire takes a deep breath and picks up the chair off the floor. She sits down, crosses her legs, the hint of pale pastel skin peeking from the bottom of her jeans and above her short boots.

She reaches into the front pocket and slams a small rusted key on the table. “There. You wanted to know what was in it, so open the fucking thing.”

Cash laughs and walks back, keeping the gun on me throughout. “Claire, my sweet Claire, I knew there was a voice of reason behind that tough-girl exterior.” He leans down to pick up the key and hands it to Mary. “Honey, unwrap it and open it. We’re going to take a quick peek inside.”
​
Mary sets the package on the table and places her fingernail in a flap of paper on the side. She rips the corners and tears the top, the glisten of polished oak underneath. Tossing the paper aside, she picks
up the box and views it at all angles. It’s perfectly rectangular, smooth on all sides. The keyhole is set in what appears to be tarnished brass.

Cash licks his lips. “Open it.”
​
Mary gently inserts the key and turns it. The lock clicks and it’s the loudest sound I’ve heard all morning. She pulls out the key and sets it next to Claire. Mary presses her thumbs against the lid and opens the box. She stares for a few seconds and stops breathing. Her eyes dissipate into a cloudy smoke the color of fresh milk and her head tilts back. Blood seeps from her ears, nose and mouth. She falls sideways and out of her chair and onto the floor, the back of her head smacking the bottom of the wall. Her body twitches for a few seconds, stops.
​
Cash becomes silent and drops his gun. It hits the floor next to me but doesn’t fire. He crashes next to Mary and lifts her lifeless body to his chest, holding her head against his own. His lips curl and the first of his tears slithers down his cheeks.
​
Claire doesn’t move, doesn’t say a single word. She looks at the scene unfolding before her, uncrosses her legs, and stands up. She quickly closes the cover to the box and lifts it above her head, peering at the engravings underneath. She holds it under her arm gently, as if carrying a newborn baby. Cash repeats Mary’s name until it’s painted on the walls of the room. Claire stands next to me.
​
Cash lays Mary’s body against the bottom the wall. He closes the lids of her eyes and wipes some of the blood off her mouth. He sits on the floor and cups his hands over his face.
​
Claire and I stand next to each other, neither of us saying anything. I catch a glimpse of Cash crawling to where he dropped his gun. He picks it up and fires a shot. It misses both of us and I reach for my own weapon. I push Claire aside and pull the trigger, a single shot echoing in the room. The bullet strikes Cash’s neck and he falls on his back, gasping for air and bleeding profusely. He squirms on the floor, hands fluttering like a dying bird. His chest heaves in and out and I imagine what images might be floating in his brain, every poor fucker that he’s killed is in 3-D and punching their way through the sticky viscera of the afterlife.

I calmly walk over to Cash and gaze into his eyes. He has a final look above me at the small bits of light in the room, the malevolent angels in his mind flapping their wings in departure. The last time I killed
someone I pictured my mother saying a prayer, but all I can see now is quick flashes of red. Another bullet in his chest and he stops moving. I walk over to Mary’s body and pull her over to Cash, placing her arm over his chest. There’s an empty sound from the essence of their final embrace.
​
Claire puts her hand in mine and eases her head into my chest. My lungs take in the room’s spoiled air, the draft of the dead flowing through my blood. I nudge my nose against the top of Claire’s head, between the halves of blonde, the dark roots pushing through. She shoves me back and dives into my mouth for a kiss.

She tastes like sweat and burnt cinnamon. We leave the room, the morning behind us.

The sun nudges through a blanket of clouds, an electric lavender sky above.