A story of life choice contrasts seen over the course of jobs worked for a client.

I don’t know what year it was I started working for her. Linda Bornholm neè Swanson. Like a lot of ongoing clients, hers was a call for some renno. It was a bathroom. I was, I don’t know, 25. Still working for my Uncle. Not a bad gig if you have a high tolerance for delayed onset hypocrisy, being talked to in a way that you’d be justified in treating with a well-aimed throat-punch and the occasional bad smell. I didn’t do much talking those days.[…]

The Rainbow Bridge: Short Story — The Sperg Box