"Impossible," Adam stammered.

Fearing what that email might entail, he didn't dare breathe. His mind was swimming with questions: Is this a bad joke? A computer virus? Did someone hack Evelia's old account after all these years?

An incoming call startled him. Almost as a reflex, he answered it.

"You are killing me."

It took Adam a moment to recognize the caller's voice.

"Zhang?"

"I told you about Bristol in confidence. What if I owe you one?"

Were they negotiating again? Whether his dead girlfriend was haunting his inbox or not, he had to focus on this conversation.

"A favor?"

"Yes," Zhang replied.

"Favors don't buy plane tickets."

"Adam..."

"Am I killing you?"

"Uh-huh."

"No. Just surviving."

After a long pause, Zhang said, "There's more to life than money."

"Try living here. It will rock your world."

Adam tried to regain his temper. Their working relationship had been going strong for years, but he was pushing his luck. The cornerstone of their friendship was but a few personal stories shared while burning the midnight oil, like why his client worked so hard on developing video games: "They transmitted software through the radio," Zhang told him a few months ago. "Old microcomputers such as the 'Trash-80' used cassettes to store data, so a Bristol-based radio station started broadcasting computer programs so that listeners could record them. Isn't it amazing? Thanks to that, video games made it to communist countries in Europe. Some people love video games, Adam. I'm one of them."

As Adam remembered that story, their conversation went in circles.

"Enough," Zhang said after a while. "Go to your inbox."

Adam's eyes locked on the screen. Evelia's email was like a splinter stuck in the back of his brain. To work again that night, he'd have to delete it or—Fuck this, he thought, giving in to the temptation.

An attached MP3 file, no text or subject line... That email had to be malware. That was all he needed to know. Click. Done. Deleted! Regardless of where it came from, it was no more. To Adam, therein lied the beauty of the digital: a button can delete your problems.

If Zhang extended his contract tonight, Adam couldn't afford to deal with any distractions, especially from his past. That was also why he didn't have Facebook or anything resembling a window to yesterday. The less meddling from the outside world, past or present, the better.

Adam read his client's email twice and exhaled, relieved. "Thanks."

"Fix the divorce today."

"By the time I'm done, it will be a honeymoon."

"And Adam..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget about your Bristol."

The call had ended.

"Never," Adam whispered as he threw one of his wristwatches in the trash. Soon, the stillness settled over him like a protective veil.

Silence. Adam inhaled. Sweet silence.

When he exhaled, ready to begin, an annoying drip of water echoed from somewhere in the apartment.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Drip, drop.

Adam strode into the kitchen and pressed down the faucet lever until the dripping stopped.

Good.

Four alarms beeped simultaneously on his wristwatches. It was eight o'clock when he fed his fish, Finding Nemo and The Sequel Sucked. Some might argue those names were long, but it mattered very little since he had no visitors.

Solitude didn't phase him. He welcomed it, in fact. That's why he never ventured outside either. And thanks to the advent of the Bachaqueros, whose sole job consisted of waiting in long lines at grocery stores to buy food for those with deep enough pockets, Adam kept to himself.

For him, everything was one click away. The best broadband that the 'Weak Bolivar' could buy in his little corner of the third world was the primary reason he lived in that area of Caracas, near the last internet provider the government hadn't expropriated yet.

Fingertips on the keyboard, eyes closed, and a question on his lips: "What lies in the labyrinth's depths?"

I'm ready.

Little by little, the ideas surfaced, putting a smile on his face.

Drip.

His jaw clenched.

Come on!

Before he pushed himself off the chair, a notification on his screen bewildered him: "Download completed."

"The hell?"

A look in the Downloads folder confirmed his suspicion: it's the audio file from Evelia's email.

Drip.

Hadn't he deleted it? He was sure of it.

Drip, drop.

Perhaps Evi did send it from the grave.

Adam looked askance at the kitchen, listening to the pregnant drops grow until they burst over and over again. She is dead, focus! To scan the computer with an antivirus program would delay everything, but the risk of having his files corrupted...

Drip, drop. Drip, drop.

First, Adam needed to do something about that dripping tap, or he would go mad.

To his surprise, the water faucet in the kitchen wasn't the issue. The bathroom sink, maybe? As he stepped into a puddle of water, he realized the problem there was worse than he feared.

For the next half an hour, the same time it took the antivirus program to eliminate all threats, Adam mopped the floor and fixed the pipes to the best of his ability. Thirty minutes lost! His schedule was flawless: he cleaned up his apartment every Saturday morning at ten o'clock and vacuumed the carpet on Tuesdays and Thursdays at six on the dot. This kind of thing drove him crazy. Why did a pipe have to break when a tight deadline loomed over him? Because of Evelia, a voice whispered in his head.

Adam leaned toward his computer screen and wiped off beads of cold sweat from his forehead. Is the audio file gone? He didn't want to admit this whole thing gave him the jitters.

As he reminded himself that ghosts weren't real, someone knocked on his door for the first time in months.

I thought editing this part would be easier. I was sure wrong.

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