Nothing prepares you for all the tragedy. People die, sometimes while they’re on the phone talking to you. A few times, I’ve been the last voice people hear in their lives. It does something to you. You try to reach across the electronic gap. You want to do more than you can. Then, later, you want to stop and absorb the emotion of it, but you can’t. Another call comes in, another emergency needs handling. At the end of my shift, all the crises of the day blend together into one foggy memory. It’s the sweetest blessing of the job.
Mario who?I'm a novelist, poet, and short story writer living in the Pacific Northwest on Missoula Flood soil. I post my 100-word short shorts here on an intermittent basis.
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