Kiss the Machine
an excerpt

“Hello,” He said.
“Lee, it’s Trace.” Trace was Lee’s fourth routine, only this time she came third. Maybe he was late getting up this time around, later than usual at least. Her voice was never calm, always frantic, as if every word were her last.
“Good morning,” he said.
“No you listen up. Got a guy here, missing for a week. But get this?” She said.
Lee sniffed, the smell of almonds wafted in from the kitchen.
“Mom said the kid went into the internet.” She said.
“How does one go into the internet, Trace.” Lee said.
“Don’t know, but that’s what the mom said.”