Category: Short Fiction

I deal in death, that’s how I earn my bread and butter. Wallowing in the financial implications of suffering and demise, I shuffle the sheaves of paper, both tactile and electronic, that rustle the real-life certainty of not existing anymore. Working under a thick armour of mental self-preservation which expands with the continual observation of someone else’s misery, I muddle through and keep an even tone in my voice. I work in an emotional freezer for survival’s sake.