101 Words

Marla knocked on the steel door of her new job, entering quickly. She had always dreamed of working in the make-up industry. Could she succeed? She excelled at hiding facial imperfections and smoothing uneven skin tones. Surely she’d be a natural here.

Marla assessed her first client, prone in the pine box. Yes, she could return color to the face and hide the bruising on the jawline. Once she closed the woman’s eyes, no one would see the bloodshot traces. Confidence coursed through Marla. She would give dignity to the dead woman’s body and comfort to her family.

Everyone starts somewhere.

He usually had breakfast with his friends but today he stayed home, in case his daughter called. She didn’t, but he knew she was busy with the kids.

He waited for the mail, but there was no card. Well, maybe tomorrow. Before he took a nap, he checked his phone twice to make sure the ringer was on.

She didn’t call.

He thought about birthdays, Christmas mornings, and graduations that he missed when he walked away. Instead, he created false memories which gave small comfort on other days.

That night he dreamt of grandchildren he’d never met, singing him Happy Birthday.

Nikolas was waiting in the check-out line when he spotted his neighbor, Emily, just ahead. She didn’t see him, though, because she was typing on her phone.

He stopped at Starbucks on his way home. Waiting for his tea, he looked around. Everyone was staring at their screens. He felt invisible.

As he returned to his car, a young woman nearly walked right into him. She was texting and seemed oblivious to the cars circling the crowded parking lot.

When he got home, Nikolas sat down at his kitchen table and got to work, crafting and posting fake news stories.

Christine could hardly wait to tell her best friend Sue about the new shop: proper clothes for real women—not girls with figures like ironing boards.

The shop assistant was lovely—all big, cuddly smiles. The clothes were great—and with sensible styles too. In the changing room, Sue took off her size 14 top and hung it on the wall. The silk, flowery 8 she tried on was a bit tight but the 10 was perfect—honesty at last!

With two dress sizes lost in ten minutes, there was no problem with the celebratory coffee and white chocolate muffin afterwards.

They raised the food, prepared the meals, and took care of the homes. We stared at screens and barely noticed them.

When the work day ended, they were bussed back behind the wall. There they tended their gardens, raised their children, and studied computer coding.

When the virus began to spread, they did not come to work. Crops rotted in the fields, livestock starved, and our homes fell into disorder as the screens went dark.

We marched to the wall and pounded on the locked gates. Our cries for help weren’t heard over the sounds of celebration drifting over their wall.

Rainy evening. Cold and gloomy. Like any other day in my heart and mind.

Another day of getting off from a job I hate, stopping at this awful store, buying crap I don’t want or need, then going home to a wife and daughter, both who’ve grown strange and unpleasant to me.

I’m tired.

As I’m leaving the store, a young man wearing a long coat is walking in. He says to me, “You’re a lucky man.”

Offended, I mean to tell him “Fuck off,” but he’s moving too fast.

Seconds later, I hear gunshots and screams from inside the store.