You awaken to the alarm on your phone blaring its unholy scream. As the thoughts of your dreams clear from your mind, only one thought lingers: "Not again." [[Get out of bed]] [[Hit snooze and roll over]] [[Stare at the Ceiling]]You pull yourself out of bed and put on your uniform. You've done it so many times you've lost count. [[Make a cup of coffee]] [[Head into the office]]You lay on your back, staring at the water stains on the ceiling, pondering life. What choices did you make to get you here? This morning ritual of self-loathing? This daily grind? Why do you feel so beholden to a job that you hate? It's pointless to keep asking these questions. There's work to do. [[Get out of bed]] You raise your scythe above your head, breathe deep, close your eyes, and let it fall. The deadly tool rips through his chest, tearing the soul from his body as the sound of a thousand otherworldly shrieks fills the air. "Why didn't I go to law school?" you ask yourself, as you trudge quietly home, unenthusiastically dragging your bloody scythe behind you. Bits of soul unceremoniously slough off of it as it scrapes across the gravel. This job is so tedious. [[Tomorrow's a new day.|Start]]"Hey." Your stomach drops as you turn to see your boss beckoning to you, holding a folder. "How're you doing today?" [[Oh, you know. Another day in paradise.|Doing fine]] [[Fine. What's in the folder?|Doing fine]] [[Pretend not to hear her|Doing fine]]"I know you're getting tired of the same day-in, day-out here. We all are." She's never shown this level of interest in your well-being before. Maybe things will change around here. "We have to do it. If we don't do it, no one will, and the garbage would just pile up. Here's today's job." She hands you the folder, and you realize [[nothing will ever change.]]You look at the [[information in the folder]], as you've done hundreds of times before. "Glorified data entry, this job," you mutter to yourself as you grab your equipment and [[go to the location in the folder]].You boil the water and grind the beans by hand. It helps you feel like you're in control, somehow. It gives you something to look forward to. The aroma of the coffee fills your nostrils as you pour it from the french press, and you have a brief moment of solace before you [[Head into the office]].A name: John Doe. An address: Just a few blocks from here. Personal information: Nothing new. He's just like the rest—[[nothing will ever change.]] You'd rather not go, but you do it because it's your job. You arrive at the location, and see a man who fits the description of Doe. Your grip tightens around the work equipment you brought. [["John Doe?"|Do your job]] [[Do your job]] You know that a couple more minutes of sleep won't keep you from having to face another day at work, but you're grateful for the fifteen minutes of reprieve anyway. Until the alarm goes off again. [[Get out of bed]] [[Stare at the Ceiling]]