Suburban Spy


Sitting at her dining room table, Carolyn was staring at the piece of paper her husband put in front of her. She was confused and searching her brain for an answer to his question. “Yes, it’s my signature,” she said quietly. “But I don’t remember signing this.”

It was a receipt from the poshest hotel in town, dated two days ago. “Carolyn, I believe you. I know you don’t remember, but I do.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Two nights ago, you didn’t come home.” Charlie had just had his worst fear confirmed. Carolyn had been called back into service.

Charlie knew all about his wife’s past when he married her. They both knew it could happen, but it had been five years since her last mission. They were hopeful that it had really been her last mission. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

No one ever truly left the agency though. Once you were in, you were in for life. Death was the only way out. The Agency could call upon you at any time, whenever they needed you. It was ingrained in every agent to always answer the call. No matter what. The one favor that The Agency granted you was that you would have no memory of the call.


This piece was longlisted in the Fish Publishing Flash Fiction 2015 contest. Out of 1285 entries, 200 were longlisted. I’m proud of that!


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