Three o'clock orders always lead to the same morgue. Every time the door opens, it's the same slowly decaying customer. The banknotes he gave would always turn into Hades coins the next day. I tried rejecting the order, but found myself driving to that building in a loop forever. There was a secret photo of me sleeping in the photo album on my phone. When I opened the door tonight, his rotten fingers were hooked on the work badge I lost yesterday. "Don't use mint toothpaste tomorrow," he squirmed, exposing his maggot lips, "I like the way you smell now."
