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About Swords

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m a glazier, fixin’ windows, not souls, so when it comes to findin’ a prostitute, I got opinions sharper than shattered glass. Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining—hookers ain’t hidin’ in my toolbox, but I’ve seen ‘em, oh yeah, lurkin’ in shadows like Stasi spies from *The Lives of Others*. That flick—chef’s kiss, man—Wiesler tappin’ phones, peepin’ lives, got me thinkin’ how these girls operate, quiet, sneaky, “a life in the service of others,” but for cash, not ideals.

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Anyway, I head back to the office, and guess what? My boss is in a mood. He’s pacing around like he’s training for a marathon. “Where’s the report?” he barks. I’m like, “Chill, man! I’m on it!” But inside, I’m fuming. Why does he always have to be so intense?

Death Notice of Teresa Doyle (née Campbell) (Rathfarnham, Dublin)