finished-work

Limon City was rarely cold. The city was compressed against the coast, flattened out by foothills that fast became mountains. In winter, the wind came sweeping through the bay and up the hills, carrying the chill of the Pacific into the country. At the peak of one of these hills, a single streetlamp illuminated a woman, looking at the city and bracing herself against the wind. Her eyes produced tears against the dryness, and the distant lights of the city dissolved into twinkling stars that outshone the ones above....

The razor glides down my cheek, leaving a swath of smooth skin behind it with a faint rasp. It’s a tranquil experience, almost meditative – there’s just something about the ritual that centers me. In the living room, ConCentric announces a new job with a gentle chime. I wipe my face with a towel and go to check it out – it’s some generic looking grifter, the kind who’s just smart enough to fuck with the heavyweights....

My phone is buzzing. I get one day off this week, and so far, I’ve spent it being woken up far too early. I stick my hand out from the pile of blankets I’m under, wincing at the cold and wishing for the thousandth time that our hov had internal heating, and grab my phone. It’s only once I’m back inside my pocket of warmth that I check who’s trying to contact me so urgently, strategically applying pressure to the screen to reveal that it’s Luca....