"Amy, what's up?" Bob said, this big grin on his big, stupid face. Hehadn't shaved in a few days, growing a cool guy beard or something.Bristly hairs...in clumps and patches on his cheeks and chin, down his neck.A pink pimple here and there."We were just talking about you." Oh cool. Hey, we're playing next Thursday. Wanna come?" School." Oh. You guys haven't played in a while. What's up with everyone?What's that girl's name who plays guitar?" Thelma." Yeah, whatever." He knew I was lying to. It was formally written, addressed to her at Foley Road. It included a job title of “Event Executive”, a formal place of work at Millsum’s offices in the city, a blank starting date and further down, some terms and conditions that she had seen on employment offer templates many times. It was section thirty-five though that she was really looking for, on page four. Starting salary was to be eighty-five thousand, payable in arrears bi-weekly. She grabbed her chair, then sank to her knees. The sun. More

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