The golden contract

It was a rainy night in Mission Hills, Fremont.

A good weather for couples to dine in. Well not for everyone, especially not for someone like Fred, who had his job as his lover. The generational job was what he held on to and wouldn’t want it to slip away into the hands of his enemies.

He drew the brush out of the ink bottle and pasted it on the painting, he did it so skillfully that one would think he had studied creative art for a very long time. Then he took the ink bottle and splashed it on the other side of the drawing, so it could form an irregular shape, it did form, a beautiful one at that.

The cold had him perambulating round the room. He decided to shut the windows and retire to bed, unfortunately the strong wind took the brush out of the room through the window and into the garden. “Darn it! “ he cursed as he shut the window and walked down to the hall.

It was so quiet down there, everyone might have retired to bed. He pushed the giant door open and walked