Washed

"Look, it's just... It's over." Kell rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh. "You haven't put out a good idea in months."

"Months?" Gia whispered.

"Yeah, six of 'em. Cigarette?"

"No, Kell. You know I can't. The meds-"

"Uh-huh. I remember."

The cigarette flared, illuminating the edges of his tan face with a touch of cruelty the warm light sitting across the room washed away. His chest expanded until the pearl buttons on his shirt strained, then relaxed. The shirt hung too loose now around his shoulders.

"We were willing to overlook the lowered engagement. Algorithms and people are picky. But, Gia... You've been pitching us bad ideas for six months. That's a long time in our world."

She huffed and looked down at her lap.

This green pantsuit was supposed to be lucky.

Her hands went to fists. Instead, it just made her look stupid. This wasn't a conversation about her next project and this wasn't a lucky suit. She'd been duped.

"It'll get better," she pleaded softly. "The doctors said that it'll take a few months to adjust to my new normal, but after that..."

"Gia. I'm sorry, but the decision's been made. You said the same thing at the three month evaluation."

Kell looked away, out the grand window looking over the city's nightlife. Gia watched him carefully, wondering how he could be so calm when her life was ending.

He smoked every time they met and never seemed to age. It didn't seem very fair. Gia rubbed the back of her hands, smoothing out her own wrinkles. She was too young for it, but had them anyway. And here was this idiot, smoking with an eternal glow to his skin.

He sucked on his cigarette, hollowed his cheeks, and sighed.

"I am sorry, Gia."

"No, you're not. I'm just work to you. This is just business. I get it. Business dried up, people don't want to hear from me, and my ideas aren't doing it anymore. That's fine."

She grabbed her small purse and stood.

"Thanks for...whatever you gave me."

"Don't be that way," he said, remorse creeping into the edges of his voice. "Listen, when you've got an idea, a good one..."

He was pleading with her. The angles of his face changed, but he was leaning away from his cigarette now, toward Gia and the lamp.

"I don't have any good ones anymore, Kell. You told me yourself."

"Try to understand. Please. This isn't easy for me. You've been with us for a long time."

"Well, if it's not easy for you, then maybe you should change your mind. Go on. Stop me."

Gia left thinking Kell would stop her.

She left the door open. Held the elevator doors far longer than was appropriate for someone coming in. She fiddled with the contents of her purse, searching for her lip balm before walking to her car. Even that, she did slowly.

It wasn't until she drove off the lot that she realized he wasn't going to stop her at all. This dream of a career was over.

She had no good ideas left after all.