Short Story

Decent Essays
The mechanics of my job are horribly misunderstood. I am not a creator, nor am I a donator. I am just a reseller, somebody who gives away their trash for a price. “Can I please get an order of love for my daughter?” The ruddy-faced man in front of me wags his finger at me expectantly, causing me to sigh. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had love for a couple of years now.” “Excuse me? I thought this was an emotion shop!” I know not to try and reason with this man any further, as his already red face is starting to turn a darker shade of beet. Obviously, he does not understand that I am no god and that the limited emotions I feel are a hindrance to my ability to create. Unfortunately for my business, the man angrily walked away, grumbling…show more content…
I’m not a damn magician, so can you get the fuck out? There’s a booth over there that sells medicines.” She doesn’t even blink, “I know, but you’re the only one who doesn’t look scary. The guys over there have weird chains on them!” “I’m not scary?” “No, miss, you’re not. You look like my mama.” “Wow, you really wanna save your mama, huh?” She shakes her head slightly, and I swear, her voice gets deeper as she explains, “No, I want my mama to die faster so I’ll have food to eat.” The girl’s eyes are blank, and I realize that I should give her what she wants for my sake. If I don’t, she’ll probably attempt to kill someone, and therefore give me an even worse reputation. Imagine that headline: Another Crazy Bitch Attempts Murder after Visiting Vika’s Booth. Business for me is already slow enough, especially since people these days are so interested in the rare feelings. I don’t even understand how I made this into a business. How can people sincerely believe that an self-made orphan such as myself can feel love and happiness more than them? I wait another hour alone in the shop before deciding on closing for the day. I want to wander around the place before it turns dark, and people lock their doors in fear of being kidnapped, and brought to one of many tombs. In those tombs, they are then forced to grant the dead’s last wish until they, themselves die. Usually, those last
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