Overwrite My Love

By Daniel P Swenson

In this short story, John Watanabe is just a cop, but when he meets a woman on the train strange things begin to happen. When she leaves, all he has is an aching desire and a whole lot of unanswered questions. If he wants the truth, he’s going to have to find her. Trouble is, she doesn’t want to be found.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel P Swenson
• Release date: Aug 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310902437

Daniel P Swenson

Daniel P. Swenson lives in southern California with his wife, two children and two furry aliens with claws and whiskers. He does most of his writing on the train or in other odd, in-between moments. Comments and questions are welcome. He can be reached at [e-mail].

Book preview

Overwrite My Love

By Daniel P. Swenson

Copyright © 2014 by Daniel P. Swenson

Art copyright © 2014 by Alina Urusov

All rights reserved.

I woke at dawn, pearly light leaking in from the blinds. The muzzle of Geraldine's gun hung over my left eye like an eclipse. I blinked once, lashes brushing metal, the sour smell of gun oil. My right eye traveled past the gun, connected with hers. Her pupils widened as my hand clamped onto her wrist to push the gun away.

The blast echoed through my skull; the pain made me see black for a second or two. I held on, though. She jerked like a strung-up fish.

Why? was all I came up with. Why are you doing this? I tightened my grip and stood up. The gun fell onto the hotel carpet, and she stopped struggling.

"I really do love you, John she said, and punched me in the chest. But you don't have what I need."

She punched me again, harder than I expected from such a slender woman. Yan Zhen knew better. He'd trained with her. He tried to tell me what came next, but I was too slow.

Her body twisted around, her leg bending and winding up. Then her foot snapped forward. Her shin bone slammed into my bad hip. She knew me so well.

I collapsed like a cut puppet.

***

A junkie slammed a car into my hip early in my career. Even the bone regen hadn't put it right. Desk job. Boredom. My wife had sympathized with me, done everything she could to help, but life just wasn't the same. I missed patrolling, the adrenaline rush I'd get late at night out on the street. Now it was just paper and more paper. My unhappiness seeped into my marriage. I didn't talk to my wife much anymore. She thought it was a good thing I wasn't patrolling. She didn't understand. So we just kept on living, year by year. Our son left for college. He visited once in a while.

Then I noticed her. It was rare to see another Asian face in my neighborhood. Chinese, I thought. Beautiful, in a plain way. There was something about her eyes, sad eyes. I never saw her smile. She often stood by me in line, waiting for the 7:32. She would glance my way from time to time, or did she? I couldn't tell if she was seeking me out, or if it was just the loneliness and boredom clouding my judgment.