Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


September 6th 2017 in Microfiction

“Okay, so … no,” the supervisor said. “I understand how this seemed like a good idea in terms of using technology to form a bridge, gain familiarity, yada yada, but … no.” Death set its jaw firmly and didn’t move. “There’s a certain amount of privacy and mystery that’s a part of this job; protecting that is a part of yours.” Death remained stiffly upright in its chair. The supervisor sighed. “I’m not going to write this up, just take the Instagram account down and we’re good. I’m sorry; I know you were trying to be forward thinking. Maybe we could work on a different collection strategy … you know, to shake things up. Uh … did you … did you just roll your eyes?” the supervisor asked, feeling awkward. Death raised a bony finger and pointed to its empty eye sockets. “Not likely,” it hissed, standing and taking its leave. “Well, okay,” the supervisor stammered. “Thank you. Good talk. I appreciate your help.” In the hallway, Death paused to give the finger to the closed door behind it, and groaned as it moved on its way.

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