Graveyard Shift

by M.L. Rio

It’s frighteningly easy to get lost in your own subconscious; any place you think you know is different after dark.

Nobody wanted to huddle in a moldering churchyard after midnight because there was nowhere else to smoke. But huddle they did. Misery loved company and made strange bedfellows.

“Occam’s razor,” Edie repeated. “The simplest explanation is the best explanation.”

She knew she sounded like a know-it-all but had never figured out how to avoid that particular pitfall.

She learned to live in the permanent twilight of sleep-deprivation psychosis. Life, if you could call it that, was a never-ending out-of-body experience.