You were panting from the run over, heart thudding in your ears. Hours late. There was an astral door beside that trash can and an exchange…

You were panting from the run over, heart thudding in your ears. Hours late. There was an astral door beside that trash can and an exchange due with your opposite number for documents within.

Reach your hand inside.

It's empty.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

You were only supposed to handle the pick-up and drop-off, some blueprints in exchange for a dossier.

That's way too fucking boring to remember! We've already forgotten it again.

"Ahem."

You turn to see ESTOC sitting at a nearby bench, shaking her head at you slightly over a newspaper.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shh."

She looks away and changes her posture, letting her coat fall in such a way that you see the sign in her pocket -- a brochure for beach bungalows.

She's made the exchange with your opposite number on your behalf.

"That's operant-level work, ESTOC. You're out of line."

She sneers and rearranges her coat, hiding the brochure.

When you called Melita that night, you gave her the name of the brochure as confirmation of the handoff -- and never mentioned a thing about Eszti.

Nod, leave.

"Tell me you handled it."

Say nothing, just raise your eyebrows.

I missed the contact. I'll have to say I was dead.

I don't want to think about this. (Dispel memory.)

You press the memory back into its box. The images fade, the anxiety does not.