Oh, I know what you are. Though I am more and more certain that you do not. Thank you for returning this to me.
Whose child are you? Which immortal’s blood do you have in your veins?
The Worker is a myth. Pure fabrication. Nobody fights back against the Deathless. Nobody.
He asks me what i do
I tell him “I work for a small company that makes packaging for…”-he stops me midsentence
“No not what you do to pay the bills what drives you crazy what keeps you up at night”
I tell him i write. He asks me to show him something. I take the tips of my fingers place them inside his forearm and graze them down his wrist goose bumps rise to the surface. I see his mouth clench muscles tighten his eyes pore into mine as though i'm the reason for making them blink. I break gaze just as he inches toward me i step back.
“So that's what you do — you command attention”
My cheeks flush as i smile shyly confessing
“I can't help it”