In My Dampest Hour

Afterwards, Amir set up shop in the East Wing Conference Room, and one by one, we were called by Mrs. Weed to enter in for our own personal Q&A.  I admit, his unsettling presence served to revive my interest in work, ever so slightly.  After five years at the premier weekly classifieds paper in the Greater Willamette Valley, you would think I’d seen it all, but this was something new: an actual workplace mystery.

Read the rest in Barrelhouse Issue 10