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Anyways, she’s slidin’ her hands all slow-like, and I’m thinkin’, “This is too good, Marge, too good!” Kinda reminded me of that scene where Gustave goes, “You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse!”—’cept it’s me, feelin’ civilized with every slippery touch. I was HAPPY, like, floatin’ on a cloud happy. But then—ugh, get this—she cranked the heat too high! My skin’s redder than Homer’s butt after eatin’ chili, and I’m all, “Lady, I’m not a freakin’ lobster!” Made me so mad I coulda screamed, “Hmm… turn it down, ya nitwit!”

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The day drags on. I’m crunching numbers, and my brain’s turning to mush. I look out the window at the sea. It’s so blue, so inviting. I’m daydreaming about swimming in the waves, feeling the sun on my face. Then, my boss walks in. “Hey, can you finish this by 5?” I’m like, “Sure, if I can work magic.”

Pontic Burial | Thessaloniki | April 23