Hot for Slayer

by Ali Hazelwood

I throw an apple in his direction—which turns out to be a mistake when, in the blink of an eye, Lazlo grabs a knife from the wooden block and uses it to slash the fruit into four pieces. While it’s still in the air. The chunks hit the ground with dull thuds, and we stare at them for a long stretch of silence. Then I clear my throat. “I didn’t know that an apple murdered your family.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t truthful. The reason we know each other is . . .” 57 He stares, patient. “You’re a CPA, Lazlo. You do my taxes.” He sighs. Shakes his head, but his mouth twitches. “I remember why we were in that building now.” “You do?” “Hm. To go over your itemized deductions.”

“Some lives run invisibly. Undetected by most. And when a person comes along who sees those lives for what they are, who acknowledges their reality, who reminds people that there is value in different ways of existing . . . A minute of that is worth more than a thousand nights with a lover. Wouldn’t you agree?”