Fungal Halo

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Not This Morning

I stare into the mirror, watching the fat slithering shapes writhing under my skin, distorting my face into a grotesque parody of humanity. In a panic, I try squashing them down with my hands, begging them to disappear. They don’t hide under the surface for long before returning.

With a heavy sigh, I resign myself to leaving the Zoom camera off during my morning meeting. I discard my flesh altogether and hope that tomorrow I’ll meet with better luck at the game of pretending to be a person.