Wanted professional mourners. Flexible schedule. PTO. Signing bonus. Must have references.

While she was carefully folding the free paper to cover the hole in her sole, Riley first noticed the ad. She laughed and showed it to Vikram. Instead of laughing he got that pointless hopeful look.

In fumes, they had coasted off the grapevine with an overheated engine and $137 to their names. Vikram’s new job fell through without reliable transportation, so they wound up living out of their CR-V. They had been scraping by with Vik fronting for high schoolers at the vape store and Riley’s boosting electronics from big box stores but they both knew they were on borrowed time.

“We got nothing to lose,” Vik said as he called the classified’s number.

They hiked to the library to freshen up and print out a couple of fake resumes. Next, they walked to the interview. The newspaper shoe patch wore thin as over the long city blocks to the job’s location. Now Riley had a limp. Vikram steadied her as they walked into the waiting room. A lady held the door.

“Don’t bother, kids. Waste of goddamn time. Dude said he’s overwhelmed from the number of applicants. No more interviews today.”

Riley crashed. Tired and hungry, she didn’t even want to do this stupid audition. Her heel was torn to shreds from the pavement. And there was that long walk back to the car. She just wanted to call her dad but she’d lost him to a heart attack last year. She missed her room and her bed with her pink gingham comforter and the mountain of stuffed animals. Vikram had never seen her cry. Flustered, he sat her down in the now empty waiting room and knelt before Riley.

“Let me kiss it better, baby,” Vik said.

Lip quivering, Riley cried harder. If she had anyone who would take her Riley knew she would go. Vik was a sweetheart. Not like Quentin. He’s out only for what he could get. Vik cared for her but she wasn’t built to live rough. His big brown eyes rimmed with tears, Vik pleaded with her to let him see her smile.

After her dad died the summer of Riley’s sophomore year, her mother left too. Her mom’s body was there, but her insides were gone. Her mom didn’t do well with emotions.

Riley learned to pretend smile. By fourteen she was a pro. The hard seltzers helped get her over the worst days. When Mom sold their house during her senior year, Riley was dry-eyed. Quentin was a fun place to go to when mom kicked her out of their apartment for getting drunk. When things with Quentin went south, Vikram was a soft place to land. And she was his little Miss Sunshine. Now, she was six months sober with nothing to show for it.

Fresh tears came. Her shoulders heaved. Her voice hiccuped the word, why over and over. For days, usually while Vikram was out hustling for pocket money Riley rocked herself to keep the tears at bay. She feared if she ever started crying she’d never stop. She made a meaningless mumble about being okay. Still on his knees, Vikram rested his head in her lap. Riley reeled herself back in. No point, making things worse. Sudden clapping made them jump apart.

“Top notch performance guys. I’m impressed. You’re hired. Our clients are funeral homes looking to create atmosphere. You two would do quite nicely. Come this way for paperwork. How do you feel about threatening to throw yourself on a coffin and begging to be buried with the deceased?