What?

Monday had come and gone with little consideration for the contract. Heavy fingers paused above the keys of the laptop, unsure of their journey. Slowly, she typed out the following message: ā€˜Iā€™m sorry.ā€™

The clawed fingers curled around her shoulder, a false reassurance, as she backed away from the screen. She had failed her task. It was too late. The skin of her shoulder, captured by the talons, separated from her body as cheese would slip from a pizza slice.

Satisfied with the quality of the payment, more hands emerged from the shadows, repeatedly sinking into her body and claiming what was rightly theirs.

Transaction completed, the seeping mass of muscle and bone that remained collapsed to the floor. The contract fulfilled, and payment made, only the promise of never again breaking schedule survived.


I missed two Mondays in a row, so yes I am a shitty person. So as an apology please accept this shitpost as a lazy substitute.