Everyone took the shortcut through the graveyard.
It closed at night, but I was in a hurry, and the groundskeepers were busy watching The Big Game. They hadn't even seen me fall over the gate.
My phone lit the path.
A crack of wood made me jump. The gnarled hands clawing through the dirt made me freeze.
The zombie pointed at me, "Give phone!"
The rest of my walk was dark but I could still hear the zombie cheering its favorite team.
"Is there a way to fix a broken heart?" asked the robot.
The human was a little stunned but then shrugged, "Eat ice cream and cry a lot."
"I am not capable of those things."
"Hm... a fling? Or a new hobby?"
"Those do not seem logical solutions."
"Can you simply not delete the memories?"
"I... find myself unable to."
"Sounds like logic isn't the answer."
"So what can I do?"
"Have you ever tried painting?"
"No."
"We can start there."
"Welcome home! How was it?"
"It was desperately needed! Thanks for house-sitting on short notice. Any trouble? Had enough food?"
"No trubs - and yes, you spoiled me with the money you left for snacks!"
"Least I could do for my favorite house-sitter!"
"I did have to buy more cat-food and litter; I couldn't find any. She was so hungry when I got here!"
"I don't have a cat?"
The cat in question didn't even look guilty about breaking in.
The dragons craned their necks down to look at the smallest dragon that had moved to the craggy peaks recently. It had wings, was jet black with sharp obsidian claws. It sat confidently on its equally small pile of shining treasures.
Though it met all the requirements, they needed to make sure it was actually a dragon.
"Answer us this; did you build your horde yourself?"
“Caw,” it proclaimed proudly.
They all nodded. Definitely a dragon.
"The printer," our new manager huffed, "Is still not printing."
We shrugged helplessly, "You fired the only qualified person in this department with the expertise to wield the dark magics required to make it obey."
The manager snorted, "Of course I fired her; she ignored the dress-code and smelled of strange herbs!"
We shrugged again.
"Fine, she's rehired!"
"I want my own broom closet," the witch stipulated, appearing in her chair.
