Short Stories > Flying Car

Flying Car

© Daniel Verastiqui

Andrew sat outside the sanitation building in the cold December morning for fifteen minutes, rubbing his hands together and wondering whether it was too early for him to go inside. He didn’t officially start work until six; that’s what it said on his contract. It was his first day with the sanitation department, having been transferred as a result of downsizing in the wastewater division. From liquid waste to solid waste. Things were definitely looking up for him.

At the stroke of six, Andrew heard chimes ringing inside the drab gray building on the street-level corner of Manchaca and Congress. Moments later, a gaggle of men in stained overalls filed out of the building, holding their hands up at the first rays of the morning sun. They walked like newborn zombies, shuffling from side to side, practically dead from exhaustion. As they filed out, another group of men filed in. These were looking much more chipper, almost to the point of...

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