Thursdays are always tough. Laura was planning on sitting back and relaxing. Maybe finding old pictures of JP. Or smiling with the memories of the last time she took a break. She did not have time for herself anymore.
“But I need the money.”
She hesitated for a few seconds when she read the time requirement in the agreement. She looked at her calendar. Yes, she would be back on time for the finals.
“Where’s the bucket?”
It looked more like an old-school skateboard helmet. She put it on, and the timer started when she passed out. 0, thank you.
Most kids liked to timeshare; it was better than working for tips. Making money while sleeping. Pretty sweet deal. But JP hated it. “They already have their server nations. My head is for me,” he used to say. He felt it was weird to share his brain to process obscure data for purposes no one would ever understand; he was a young bohemian, no doubt.
The timer stopped: 59, thank you. Laura woke up.
“Not enough, but it helps. I’m starving!”
She took the bucket off and threw it away. She rushed to the door. The crêpes place she liked was open on Sunday mornings.
“Maybe JP still works there.”
By José Tomás Prieto