#i've got other 'capitalism is the ninth circle of hell' mini pieces

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

job hunt

“Why don’t you—”

“—just tell us something—"

“—little about yourself—”

“What would you like to know?”

“Oh, anyth—”

“—that comes to—”

“You really should’ve just walked into traffic last night.”

“Excuse me?” Rosa’s voice rings faintly in her own ears. The interviewer leaves the sentence curling on the table between them, blinking owlishly at her. 

“Well, I was saying you can just tell me anything you think the company should know. about you, while you’re considered for the position,” the examiner repeats, some flat annoyance creeping into the words. The shock clanging around Rosa’s ears latches onto it, rage snapping up through her chest and hitting nothing, snarling at an empty chamber as her heart limps out of her teeth.

“I… apologize, I, misheard you. My fault, thank you for elaborating,” she says, feeling the words glide over her tongue as she convinces her hands not to lunge over the desk.

She walks from the yellowing back office two minutes later with a promise for future contact, and a mouth filled with dust and blood and printer ink. She will not remember the drive home.