“Grab some Chinese take-out on your way home, would you?”
“You should’ve taken this job if you wanted to eat out, love,” I tell her, and hear her softly laugh through the device in my ear – the voice I sleep and wake up to.
“In paper boxes, please!”
She’s in the same line of work, my partner-in-crime (or against it), and my endearingly insufferable wife.
My breathing is steady, and the din of the city quiets down. I tug between a heartbeat and the next, one silent bullet through the brains of some corrupt politician. A job done. Dinner time.