Fiction: A woman finds herself in an affair with a property developer and, then, in a double murder

I have been wandering these streets all day. Driving around Delta, through sectors Alpha, Beta, Block A to J, in circles. Biding my time, rolling up the tinted windows against the white sun.

Driving past his construction sites, past the white apartment complexes, their foundations obscured by billboards. Svelte blondes in yoga wear meditating in serene forests, gleeful gap-toothed children. Corporate types shaking hands. One by one by one, I drive past them all.

“Casablanca: A World Apart”, I read once again at the entrance. He may be inside right now on a site visit, approving raw material, doing any one of those unnameable things that are making all this happen, or he may be in the corporate office in Gurgaon.

And on the other side of the highway – there it is as always, the entrance to the village. I screech to a stop in the middle of the highway, echoing the gruff volley of abuse in my head. Look back at the men driving past, plaster the sweetest smile I can at heads that poke out of windows. Crazy fucking bitch –

I let them pass, one by one. Let them all pass. Let it all pass.

Then, before the next car can...

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