He didn’t really care much about his job. He did what he had to do and gets paid every month’s end. As long as he doesn’t piss off any supreme asses, he thought he was ok.

What’s more important to him was the obligation of favours befell upon him by his own personal endeavors. Favours from people he favours so much. He was in his own world where sweetness and nice was his evil alter ego.

His friends warned him not to get too obsessed. They even reminded him about his past experience, the experience that he had totally forgotten, intentionally. Alas, his obsession had made his skull so thick that he became deaf to all beneficial urges.

A few months went by and he somehow felt lethargic. He pretended as if he didn’t know why. Truth was, his soul has been eaten slowly by his own affectionate fixation.

As his soul decayed months later, suddenly there was a slap on his face. A slap by his own conscience, dressed in a holy white robe with a face similar like his, only 3 inches tall. The slap made him sat down on the angry chair all day long, looking into oblivion.

Now, he knew he needed to rest.

In peace.

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