Work Text:
You can’t remember when you started working here.
The days drag on and zip past at the same time, everyday is devoted to your work.
You can’t remember the last weekend or any weekend before that.
But you’ve never questioned it, not when you have work to do.
It’s not a terribly hard job by any means, just repetitive.
You hire the right monsters for the job. You turn away the wrong ones.
You go through performance reviews.
You keep out unidentified monsters.
That’s what you’ve done for as long as you can remember.
The last time you had to do something other than hiring as part of your job is a distant, meaningless blur.
Everyone asks the same questions and gives the same answers, but at this point, you barely need to look at them before knowing if they’re the right fit or not.
They’re strange but nice enough either way, you have no complaints about any of the regulars who come in looking for work.
But there is one…
Looking at him pains you for reasons you can’t describe.
Guilt, sorrow, anger, confusion… everything.
You feel everything yet nothing when you look at his face, his hat, his briefcase.
It reminds you of her smile. Of how she
It feels wrong.
Maybe it’s just deja vu, you send him on his way regardless, your feelings don’t matter in the hiring process.
That’s how it is, how it’s always been. How it’ll always be.
You’ve never questioned it, not when you have work to do.
Although, sometimes there are moments where you’re alone.
Just you, the radio, and your thoughts.
Your blurry, disorganised thoughts.
Getting lost in thought is easy when you can’t distract yourself.
There’s always one lingering in the back of your mind, too blurry and faint to pull forward and remember.
Maybe it was important once, maybe that’s why it hurts to try to think about it.
But could it truly be that important, if you can’t remember it at all?
Sometimes you find yourself in the graveyard, looking over those two graves to the left of the entrance.
You don’t know why, it’s not like you knew them.
He didn’t deserve it, if only you could’ve helped him.
But they’re familiar in a way that haunts you.
Sometimes you hear a laugh, a scream, the sound of losing someone while they suffer in agony.
It feels like you’re drowning in an endless sea, it’s torturous not being able to remember.
You wonder how your life came to be this way, why there are so many missing pieces.
But the next day comes eventually.
You don’t question it anymore.
Not when you have work to do.