You Only Live Once

I get paid a lot of money to dig graves. The job is set up by person who I never see or hear, but only know through texts.  Someone delivers the body and cash in my garage. I don’t look out; I keep painting.

Tonight, a woman screamed and cried from the  coffin. I don’t get them in coffins, just bags or linens.  I crank up loud music and dig her hole. When I come back, there is silence. Good.

I have a good thing going. Why wreck it for morality? You only live once, some people better than others.

***
Hey all, I love drabbles, I am trying to write a new one every night. Sometimes it easier than other days. I have this great idea that I am starting to work. I want to create a bunch of apocalypse drabbles and poems and make a book.