FICTIONS: Copyright
Matthew Tighe
Smith stuck his head around the corner of the cubicle. “Where the hell is Zac? I need him to sign off on this invoice.”
Jensen looked up, but after a moment his gaze skittered away to the left. He shook his head, looking slightly uneasy. “Haven’t you heard?”
Smith felt his stomach do a slow loop. His throat went dry. He could guess what he hadn’t heard, but he asked anyway.
“What?”