The Stand In

I’ve discovered a niche taking the place of other people, in particular performing those tasks they themselves prefer to avoid. This kind of specialty service requires seamlessly blending into any situation, as well as incredible forbearance. You are often the target of vitriolic abuse.

This was how I found myself last Saturday night at the city's most exclusive fine-dining establishment in the company of Veronica Roth. The meal was delightful. The trip to the emergency room after I told Ms. Roth that Mr. Deveraux had sent me to break up with her was just another of my career's many pitfalls.

The Attic

The Smith's attic had been used sparely in recent decades. Occasionally, one family member or the other would allow the ebullience of Spring to convince them to open the trap door, but the thick dust cloud that emerged always changed their mind.

As such, an entire ecosystem had erupted. New lifeforms unknown to science inhabited the various niches created among the forgotten furniture and boxes of National Geographics.

The Smith's often felt guilty for their neglect. Their cousin Tommy had once visited the attic and his body was probably still rotting up there. His parents always nagged them about it.