Dishes Best Served Cold

“Don’t go,” he whispered, as I pulled myself away.

“You know I have work.”

“Yeah, but you work for me; I’ll give you a day off.”

“Nope,” I said defiantly, “I’ve got important stuff to do today.” I pulled off the sheets, gathered my clothes and proceeded to the washroom.

“Have some coffee before you go?” he called out.

“Sure.” This was perfect. This was my chance. I could hear the kettle begin to boil. I fished inside my bag for the little white bottle, stuffed it into my jeans pocket and stepped out to the kitchen.


The kettle was boiling now. “You go get dressed, I’ll check the coffee,” I said.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, probably noticing my anxiety.

“Yeah, of course.” I assured him.

I poured out the coffee into two mugs. I added sugar in one, and the pills from my pocket in the other. I downed my coffee, slipped a note for him and left. ‘This is for Meredith. Also, I resign.’


Two months ago, at 3 am, I’d gotten a frantic call from Meredith, my roommate, and the only person I could call family. By the time I could reach, an ambulance had arrived, and she was driven to the hospital. She was distraught, crying, her clothes torn, bruises all over her body. She could barely speak. She’d been beaten and raped repeatedly, the doctors had said, and the shock had not done her any good. I held her hand as she whispered one name. The name I recognized as her employer’s. CEO of a top ranking company, she’d been his PA. He’d need a new PA now, I thought, as a plan started formulating in my mind. Meredith didn’t make it through the night.

It had been easy getting the fake identity, the job, easier still getting into his house, and as he’d wanted me in his bed almost immediately. And it was easy getting the pills, a lethal dose. So he suffers, but does not die. I wanted him to live with that suffering, and guilt. I’d accomplished my task within two weeks.

I’d promised Meredith I’d avenge her pain and her suffering. Revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. Except mine was hot.


“Airport,” I told the cabbie, and hopped in. My work here was done.


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