Works by that guy named Bill

Under the Hill Part 2: black phone

The black phone rang. “Hello, health department.” She used to have a life outside of the cramped cubicle. Typical space for a government job, it was intended for the eight-hour day. Putty fabric stretched over a metal frame, meant to be functional, nothing personal, just a cube for serving others. The desk: enough for a monitor, a phone,…

Under the Hill Part 1: necessities

Hand sanitizer stung. The slice through skin, torn as a thorn scraped through, now just another thing to ignore amidst the mild haze of tensions. Going out in public had become something of a walk through a minefield. And he’d know what that felt like. Every touch was a moment of compromise, like every step through the humid…