Humpty Dumpty’s Funeral March

Alexa told Amazon subscribers to kill their foster parents. I searched the hospitals and funeral homes for George, but didn’t find him. The temp worker standing in George’s usual spot on the assembly line chews her bottom lip, an unconscious habit that under different circumstances would be endearing. We work in brittle silence, heads bent forward, hands moving as if diabolically programmed to repeat the same idiotic gesture over and over. That’s just the sort of place this is, no time for speculative chatter, not even about who it was that tracked in blood on the bottom of their shoes.