The phone arced out over the lake, its owner having disagreed with the last message received. It hit the blue-green water with a satisfying splash and sank immediately, taking its traitorous contents to the bottom.
The thin, pretty-but-dishevelled woman behind the electronic drowning took one last look at the ripples that reached the shore. She watched as they began to break into tiny waves. She nodded at the justness of her actions and returned to her car, which was parked haphazardly on the grass just a little past the parking lot.
She jammed the vehicle into gear and stomped the gas pedal. The automobile obeyed her instructions without any sign of the treachery exhibited by the object that was now being examined by a pair of small fish.
That is, until the car rolled to a stop on the dirt road, within sight of the gate leading out of the park and the highway beyond.
The woman cursed her metal conveyance and punched the dash, doing more harm to herself than to it. She opened the door, and while sucking on the wounded knuckles of one hand, reached with the other for the device she’d abandoned just moments before.
Sylvia Tailor was not having a good day.
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