He looked at his hands: still trembling. He used his hankie to wipe his face and wished he could blame the office’s dodgy air conditioning for his perspiration. On the CCTV, he watched Barry walk along aisle 6, talking to Kevin, one of the shelf-stackers. Peering at the grainy black-and-white image wasn’t good enough. Jake thought he may as well face the music in person now Barry was on the shop floor: the moment Jake had dreaded the entire day. He got up and wondered if he should put his things in a cardboard box, ready to go, but then just put on his suit jacket to hide the ballooning wet patches under his arms and headed downstairs. Barry was standing in Home & Gardens, arms folded, discussing something with Kevin, as Jake entered the aisle. Right next to Barry’s head, on the front of a can of insect spray, was a red-and-black sticker reading: ‘You want to kill a fly? Shit, why not poison the whole planet?’ ‘Ah Jake,’ Barry said as he saw Jake approach. ‘Just the man I was looking for.’ Jake’s bowels almost releasing.
