Page 11

I flick to the chat.

Cinnamon: What do you think?

Web designer: is it encrypted? What’s hidden inside?

Encrypted? Hidden inside? Does he not know what an empanada is?

Cinnamon: There’s meat inside.

Web designer: I see. I fixed your logo too, free of charge.

Flicking off the page, I find that he has updated my logo.

The “I” being a knife is so cool.

Cinnamon: Thank you! Can I have the link to the website now?

Web designer: are you sure? Once it’s published there’s no turning back.

That sounds weirdly ominous. There must be like five billion web pages if you can’t turn them off.

Cinnamon: yes, I need money lol.

Web designer: knifeforhire.carrot is now active—password-password123. Good luck

Perfect, I don’t even need to set the password up.

Cinnamon: thanks! My number is 223-2665 in case you need me for anything.

Web designer has left the chat.

There’s a weird sadness that pangs when he leaves, as if now that he’s gone I have to work on the hard parts.

Clicking to the website, confusion percolates through me.

This is all the website is? Will anyone even bother?

It’s just a few lines with the top advertising Knife for Hire and the bottom listing my rates and email, along with the city.

There’s a deep sadness that radiates through me at the thought of all that money wasted.

Why did everything take so long, if this is all I have to show for it?

Hardening my shoulders and tucking my hair behind my ears, I force out a breath before going to the email and setting it up.

Riiiing!

My attention flicks to my phone.

Durian.

I hesitate for a single beat.

It’s late.

This can’t be good.

“Hey! What’s up?”