She looks aside at the vague nothingness passing by the window as the train passes through the tunnel and adds to a seemingly endless supply of weary ...ighs.What a fucking day.What a fucking evening.Crushed by deadlines at work, she knew before the start of the day that she would have to stay after normal hours, but not this late. Truthfully, she should have left along with the rest of her colleagues much earlier. She could have, but she didn’t.Because he had asked her to. Anson, her manager,. Bitsy could monitor sales from her home computer in the haven, then go to the locker to prepare the sold items for shipping. She should then drop the packages at the post office.In order for me to resell an item, it needed to be low enough in price, yet hard enough to get for the average buyer, to make it worth the slightly higher price I had to charge for it. A product bought from me would be at his or her door in three days, not two months.I wanted to keep the volume low, so for now Bitsy. More

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