r, the QuickEats bag heavy on my back. Another late night, another rush delivery. This one was for a cheap motel

paint peeling aroun

young, maybe early twenties, with a mean look in his eyes. A

snapped, snatching

, trying to keep my voice even. My QuickEats app

ed. Tiffany giggled. "Our special Valentin

paid and leave. "Th

cost us. This room isn't cheap, you know." He gestured aro

ss?" I asked, my

stepping forward. "We were

ifty bucks, and another fifty for the, uh, inconvenience. Or I give QuickEats a one-

get me deactivated. I needed this gig. It was

, a nasty smile spreading on

. I was tired of people like this, always trying to game the

cash I had, mostly small bills from tips. It was almost everyt

slowly. "Close en

the door

checked my app. Sure enough, a notification popped up. "Customer Kevin M

customer complaint resolution." My rating plummeted. Anothe

now, a casualty of city budget cuts and, as I'd later learn, other, more sinister dealings. She was the closest thing I' d eve

pened the door before I even knocked,

soaked! Come

ed me. She always had something cooking

gently, already ladling

ory spilled out – the motel, Kevin and

rowed with concern. "Oh, Alex. Those

rugging, trying to sound tougher tha

mall tin box she kept on a high shelf. "Here." She pulled

ter a bad marriage and worse luck. All she had of him was a faded photograph of a smiling little boy with her, h

aid, pushing the money aw

ou," she insisted. "You're like

nage. I always do." I forced a smile. "Bes

ere still worried. "You work too hard, Alex, for t

, she pressed a folded twenty into my

a familiar mix of g

hoto on her mantelpiece – Sarah, younger, beaming,

ike a good

r gaze soft. "He wa

red in my mind. Maybe there was a way to fight back, not just for me,