“Dink?” Johnson said, squinting. “That you? What you doing hanging around with this glorified janitor?”

“Internship,” Jen said. “Paid internship. Trying to work my way up to funeral home director, medical examiner, or forensic chemistry.”

“I guess things is always dying. Steady business. Death and taxes.” Johnson shrugged. “You’re still fat, though.”

“Thank you for telling me so, Mr. Johnson,” Jen said with a smirk. “I’m not sure I would’ve noticed otherwise.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’d be real pretty if you lost some weight and smiled more?”

“All the time, Mr. Johnson,” Jen replied. “In fact, I have it pre-engraved on my tombstone. ‘Finally lost some weight, finally smiling.'”

Johnson snorted, though with his MAGA mask and weathebeaten old poker face there was no way to tell if he was amused, annoyed, or some unholy combination of both. “Go on then, get to it. Let me know when you’re done and how much it’ll be. Decker’ll be out in a sec.”

  • Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!