Okay, Annie is right this time. Edith Zimmerman's very short stories are fantastic. Try not to enjoy the shit out of this...


A very short story.

I was washing my mug in the office kitchen when I heard someone come in behind me. I turned around and saw it was my friend Christina. She’s not really my friend, but she’s like an office friend. “Hey Christina, how’s it going?” I said.

“Oh, I’m good,” she said. “Tired.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m really tired, too.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m like, exhausted.”

“No kidding,” I said. “I’m totally drifting off at my desk.”

“Tell me about it. I’m like, about to fall over, literally.”

“Yeah, I was going to lie down on the floor right now,” I said.

“Oh yeah? I was actually already planning to do that,” she said as she lowered herself to the ground in front of the refrigerator.

I lowered myself down too, and shut my eyes. “Oh, this feels so good, I’m going to fall asleep, like, immediately.”

“Me too. I’m so tired I might never wake up.”

“Yeah, I was about to say—I bet I’ll die in my sleep.”

“I’ll definitely die—I drank poison earlier.”

“I drank poison, too,” I said.

Then we drifted into silence, and we both died in our sleep, at the office.