Too Late, Mr. Don: Your Wife Erased You

e and sawdust. It was a gritty universe away from

lower. To the casual observer, I looked like a hungover

unter. He didn't look at me. Sal knew that making

record. Social security, passport, birth certif

cash on the counter.

you saw

beat as he wiped the count

tote bag and walked out into

ched cabs three times. I wove through a crowded subway station and exited a

t I trained them. I knew their blind

bandoned slaughterhouse. The irony wasn't los

ing. It resembled a torture chamber far more than a medical facility.

inless steel sink. He looked like a

early,"

to be th

nted to the chair. "Sit. L

ther was cold

ainful?"

are chemically dissolving the neural pathways that hold your autobiographic

d. "I want to

d. "This is the final w

I had spent the last week writing in it. I

ame is

bookstor

ever been

are

, but it was

Evans warned. "Without your memories, you lose you

ly way to hide from him is to not know who he is. If he catches

been gone for forty minute

hursday," I sai

indow for the chemica

o spare. I entered through the servant's entranc

to the foyer, Br

ecking his phone. He looked up, his eyes n

e wer

t my ribs, but my face r

g in the Village

g my features, hunting for a li

ity," he said. His voi

itter, Brendan. I just

en the tension broke. He smirked, his arrogance blinding him. He tho

y forehead. "Next time, tak

ow,"

an, I thought. And you'r

st him, up

days