After she shot him down, the cultist turned his attention to his favorite target. Me. He approached my counter, with his recruitment pitch loaded up and ready to go, once again inviting me to take a small leap of faith and quit my job and follow him back to the compound where sublime transcendence and pancakes awaited. I told him I wasn’t interested and then slowly, very slowly, I pushed the entire stack of cultist pamphlets across the counter, off the edge, and into the wastebasket, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time.
