Male/Female

A cheap motel, sitting where the cornfields meet the suburbs, is nearly vacant on this damp evening. Two cars sit in the dark lot, water beading on them. The rain has stopped now but its remnants fill the trenches and drains, soak the ground and splash under the tires of cars that whir past. One car slows and turns into the parking lot; emptying a pot hole with a splash. It comes to a stop beside one of the other cars; its lights go off and engine silences. After a few moments the door clicks and opens. A man steps out wearing a suit, loosely covered by a long overcoat.

56-year-old Chester Thompson sat back in his chair in the empty board room and puffed on his cigar. He should have seen it coming. He threw the packet of legal papers onto the desk in front of him. Another class action lawsuit. He should have seen it coming. When Chester had founded Gentech thirty years ago, his goals had been simple -- bring cutting edge scientific progress to the people. He’d even made the company logo “Expanding America’s Future.” Bringing high tech and innovative products to the common man and woman had made him a fortune. Then everything started to go wrong.

Andrea strolled about in her camisole singing softly to herself as she merrily tossed rose petals across the floor. Eric would be home soon, and her skin tingled at the thought of cavorting with him among the fragrant petals.

The flame in the fireplace cast a warm glow throughout Gwen's living room, the flickering light soothing her as she lay curled up in a blanket on her sofa, reading a book and sipping hot cocoa. Starting when she was little, she, along with her brother and sisters, always slept by the fireplace on Christmas Eve, eagerly anticipating Santa's arrival. And of course, once they had all inevitably fallen asleep, their parents would tiptoe in and lay all their gifts out.