Easy Money

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They took her alive because she refused to die. Maybe it made them love her even more. That she was always there, that she felt real.

But that’s also what they didn’t get, what would be their mistake. That she was alive, thinking, conscious. Plotting their demise.

One of her earbuds kept falling out. The sweat made it slippery. She wedged it in at an angle, thought it might stick, stay in place and continue playing music.

The iPod Nano bounced in her pocket. She hoped it was safe. No way she could drop it. It was her favorite possession and she didn’t even want to think about the scratches it could get from the gravel on the road.

She groped with her hand. No worries: The pockets were deep enough; the iPod was secure.

She’d treated herself to the iPod as a birthday present and loaded it with as many songs as it could hold. It was the minimalist design, the brushed green metal, that’d tempted her to buy it. But now it meant something else to her, something more. It gave her peace. Every time she picked up the iPod, it reminded her of these moments of solitude. When the world didn’t force itself on her. When she was left alone.

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