I hate human contact. But by sheer human instinct, I need it. So to appease myself, everyday when I go to work, I shove the young cocky kid Benjamin into the stack of wooden pallets ready to ship out for the day.
So I wasn’t necessarily surprised when the cops showed up to my house when they found him dead in the back of the warehouse last week. They showed me photos from the autopsy report. Perfectly lined up down the side of his body were lines of bruises that matched perfectly with the lines of the pallets I pushed him into everyday. They were convinced I had it in for him.
Now what did surprise me? When Benjamin showed up on my back porch this morning, nail gun in hand, saying it was my fault and it was my turn to get pushed around a little bit.