Genesis slowed and pulled up to the curb. They sat together for a minute, the cloying J-pop melody filling the silence between them.
“Thanks for the ride,” Angela said at last. “And for the computer.”
She clutched her bag to her chest and opened the door.
“It was my pleasure,” Genesis said. “If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to drop me a line.”
“I… I will,” Angela said, and stepped out of the car.
“Toodles,” Genesis said.
Angela shut the door and headed up the steps to her building. She glanced back once as Genesis drove away. She rode the elevator upstairs and went straight to bed.
Angela took a break from work and opened up Facebook. She didn’t have many people on her friends list, and most of them weren’t local. She clicked on the search field and typed, “Genesis Judith Jacobs.”
The profile picture was a close-up on pair of brown eyes separated by freckles. According to the timestamp, the photo was added last night. Angela moved the mouse unconsciously and clicked the “Add Friend” button.
Angela looked around. She was certain she heard something, but couldn’t tell what caused it. She turned back to her computer.
She got a fix on it that time. It was coming from outside, repeating every few seconds. She stood from her chair and walked slowly toward the window. Shadows fluttered on the curtains against the glow of the morning sun. She took a deep breath and pulled the curtains open.
The man was holding a bucket in one hand and a squeegee in the other. Giant insect wings, the kind you’d see under a beetle’s shell, beat furiously behind his back, supporting his weight over ten stories of open air. His blue eyes widened in surprise and his mind spilled into hers.