Page 13 of Morsel

“I always like a curious student.”

Before I can get pissed off at being at the bottom end of the teacher/student power dynamic, she places a large stack of papers in front of me. The stark white papers contrast against the dark wood. I stop on the title of the first page: Non-Disclosure Agreement.

“An NDA just to see a movie you’re working on?” I ask.

“It’s more than that,” she says. “I have a reputation to protect. You understand, of course?”

Stiffness rolls through me. I’ve never liked contracts. Legal forms tend to lead back to the government, and I avoid them as much as I can. That way, it’s easier for everyone.

Mona looks down at me. A pale vein dances down the fleshy column of her neck. The rhythm of her blood thumping through that vessel captivates me, a clock ticking its way back to the top, marking the final beats of a dying heart.

Everything about her is hypnotizing.

“I’ll have to think about it,” I say. I shuffle through the papers and try to read quickly, but there’s more than forty pages, and after a few seconds, the words blend together. “I need to go through this.”

“Good.” She clasps her hands together, then stands. “Read it thoroughly. Every last page, love. Don’t miss a thing. Please keep in mind the private screening starts this evening at five, not a second later.”

I flip through the pages again, adrenaline smothering my chest. “I have work today.”

“Where do you work?”

“At the chicken processing plant.”

“How lovely. An intellectual worker,” she says.

I furrow my brows, unsure of what she means by that. Is it an insult?

“I’m afraid the offer ends once the screening begins,” she continues. “After that, I’ll move on to another subject. You know how the muses control an artist.” She tilts her head. “For now, I have to prepare for my next appointment, but remember, love: five o’clock. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Before I can say another word, she pushes me out of her office. The double doors close behind me, and the metal lock clicks shut.

I glare at the papers. My nostrils flare, and I swear I can still smell the sweat coming off of her skin, that salty need oozing out of her pores and yearning for me.

I need to think, and I can’t think here. Not with her right behind the doors.

Chapter 6

At the processing plant, I glance at the analog clock on the break room wall. My skin is flushed, and my hands are trembling with nerves. I meant to check behind the student union to see if the food court had any leftover meat, but Mona took over my brain, and I forgot what I was supposed to do before my shift.

If Mona has a forty-page contract she wants me to sign before we even watch a movie together, then there’s something wrong with her. A secret she’s hiding. A trap she’s set that I’m willingly walking into. A corral at the end of the barn, leading me to the slaughterhouse.

She gave me until five o’clock. I’ve only got an hour or so left until I need to take the commute back to the university.

If I sign those papers.

The supervisor adjusts his glasses. The plastic frame slides down his nose.

“And so, please remember that we have cameras everywhere,” he says, his voice monotonous. “Even if it isn’t being sold under our company’s brand, taking organs from the rendering packages is stealing.” His eyes narrow in on me. “Let me repeat: there are cameras everywhere. It doesn’t matter how good of an employee you are. It doesn’t matter if it’s a handful of intestines or a few livers. We know how much we should be exporting from the plant each day. If you take the rendering shipments, it will be considered stealing, and I will be forced to fire you.”

I huff. He’s acting as if I’m the only one who takes meat. For fuck’s sake, that’s how Jerry lost his finger. I saw him digging around the buckets and accidentally startled him. His hand slipped against the cutting machine, and there went his pinky.

The contract pages flutter under the ceiling fan. As the supervisor continues lecturing, I subtly pick through the contract. I catch different phrases.

The subject agrees to participate?—

…an art series dedicated to the topic of cannibalism?—

By signing here, I give up all claims to my photographs?—

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