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I tell stories
100 words, or sometimes more

The Measure of a Man

I died, and woke to find myself naked, on a slab, overlooked by a girl with callipers.

“Oh hey!” she said. “Look at you, sleepyhead.”

“What…” I tried to sit up but found resistance, like the slab was coated in glue. “The bus…”

She sucked air through her teeth. “Yeah, bit of a splat I’m afraid.”

Her hand touched my forehead, and drew out… something. A tiny ghost of myself, which she put in the callipers’ jaws.

“Oh, look at that! 3 millimetres short. Another kind word and you’d be in. Ah well. Ta-ta.”

The slab vanished, and I fell.

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