Avainsana: burn out

Fucking clowns – Sam de Ville does his job


Sam de Ville had worked a long week, every extra hour he could and some he couldn’t, and had worked a Saturday, and then a long Sunday, before the week started all over again.
On Wednesday, at 6.15am, he left again, taking his cap and nine-year-old blue hoodie, which he had last washed in the spring, when the first spring rains swept the dust from the city.
Now the Canadian maples were blushing in the autumn rain and Sam de Ville was walking from the 14th Street station when he saw the reflection in the Chipotle window.
An empty hoodie and cap stood there in the rain, on the corner of Irving Place, and Sam de Ville never made it to work.