Harry Trochinski WoB Short Story Contest 11/12/2025
A Day on the Job. I push past my father in our apartment. The stupid drunk barely notices. Him and mom weren’t always this bad, like before the war. When grandpa died fighting it really took a toll on them. Both of them started drinking, and it got bad. As a result, all of our money went down the drain. My sisters and I had to resort to doing anything it took to survive. Molly cooks for us. Poor Elizabeth was only eight when she went out to look for food and never came back. Every day on my way to work I still have hope I will find her, hiding in a ditch or sitting in a box or maybe adopted by a family who felt sorry for her. In that case, I would leave her. Her life would most definitely be better than ours. I walked out of the door and through the alley, the same alley I walk through every day. We were one of the lucky families who got to keep their apartment, supposedly because grandpa was some kind of famous war hero. I often wonder why that would only get us a one-room apartment. I am extremely glad to leave until the smell of death hits my nose. As I walk a little further I find the source: a raccoon. The thing is foaming at its mouth, and I’m upset that I will have to clean it up when I get back. For now I need to do my job. I walk through the streets, trash and waste and people all around me as I try to pick up the pace. I hear a shouting voice behind me, and I turn to see what happened. Mikey, my closest friend, is yelling at me. “J! Over here!” Everyone calls me J, like Mikey does, but it’s not my name. I would never let anyone know my real name in this dangerous world. The war changed everything.