“Now then,” said the man in the nicely tailored suit sitting across the desk from Jerry, “we’ve gone over all the details. If everything sounds fine to you, just sign on the dotted line down at the bottom, above my signature, and we’ll be done.”
Jerry stared at the line the man pointed at and tried to ignore the long, pointed fingernail. He glanced back up briefly at the man with the slick black hair and soul patch, and gulped involuntarily at the gleam in his eyes (was their red color just a trick of the light?) and his leering grin.
“Are you having second thoughts?” the man asked. “Understandable if you are. But honestly, this is the best deal you’re gonna get this side of Heaven, I can promise you that. Who else is gonna give you what you’re asking for? Hm?”
Jerry looked back down at the paper. The man was right. He’d gone all over town and hadn’t found anyone else willing to help him out. He was desperate. It’s the sign of the times, Jerry thought glumly as picked up the pin, feeling discouraged that this was the only option left to him. He held the pen briefly over the dotted line, took a deep breath, and signed his name above the man’s signature of L. DeVille.
“Great!” the man cried out as he snatched the paper out from under Jerry’s hand. “The deal is made!” He stood up. “Enjoy the rest of you day, Jerry. I’ll see you again, when the time comes.”
As Jerry left the man’s office, he met up with his wife where she was waiting for him in the lobby, sitting quietly in her wheelchair.
“How’d it go?” she asked with her feeble voice.
“Don’t worry,” he told her as he wheeled her towards the door. “It’s taken care of. Things are going to be just fine from now on. You’ll see.”
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “sign”: