Nisha wrung herself from the police grip, calling to Ren; ‘Boiling kettle. On my desk…get it.’ Ren stood thunderstruck. ‘Just press the button! She begged, eyes boring into him. She had that look in her eyes, and he understood it.
Ren staggered—unable to turn away from police roughing Nisha onto the backseat. He ran upstairs, in a haze of disbelief.
Upstairs, on Nisha’s computer screen, the cursor blinked awaiting instructions. E-mail; No subject. Attachment; DefenceMinistryClassified.doc. Addressed to the newspaper editor. An electric urgency hung in the air, poised. Hearing heavy boots coming up the stairs, Ren tapped, ‘Send’.
This was produced in response to a challenge to tell a story in less than 100 words. This story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.