Loren woke to the tired squeak of old hinges, raising his head just in time to see Julan slip through his bedroom door. He was dressed already-- wearing his work clothes, not the uniform. His boots clomped against the floorboards, bits of dried mud flaking off onto the ground.
"What is it this time?" Loren moaned, mouth dry. The room was dark, moonlight barely making it in through the thorny trees just outside the window.
"Another suicide," Julan said, walking to the place where Loren kept his clothes. He rummaged around the shelf for a moment, then sent a shirt flying at Loren.“Come on, Loren, organize your clothes sometime, won’t you?” He shoved a pile of shirts aside to open the chest beneath.
Loren hauled himself into a sitting position. "Do we know him?" Loren asked. He pulled on the dirty brown work shirt.
Julan threw a pair of trousers and a belt into Loren's waiting hands.
"No. I don't, at least. I've seen him around, but never heard his name."
Loren gave a soft groan of relief. It was always terrible retrieving the bodies, but much more bearable when it was a stranger. But the friends are always there… That never gets easier. Loren stood, putting on the rest of his clothes.
"Why did we sign up for this?"
"Because it's rarely required," Julan said in a tired voice. "At least..."
"Don't try to brighten my mood, Julan."
Julan scoffed. "I wasn't going to."
Author Notes: Sorry this is so short.
Recommend Write a ReviewReport
United States • 21 years old