The Copy

Ash removed the sentence about his good intentions before he signed the account.

The solicitor had not told him to remove it. She had asked what fact it added. He had read it twice and discovered that the answer was a request to be thought well of.

“The script changes are already described,” she said. “You don’t need to tell a reader what they say about your character.”

He crossed out the sentence. The pen made a sound louder than it should have in the small meeting room.

It was Tuesday morning. He had slept at Delilah’s flat and left after breakfast, taking his own folder and accepting none of the reassurance he had once hoped a shared night might supply. She had kissed him at the door and said, “Six.” He had heard an appointment, not a conditional welcome.

The account was short. That had taken more work than…