I loved my job in the working museum. Every day, I got to play dress up as a delivery driver from a time gone by.
Then I met a little boy who was curious. I didn’t mind that; it was part of what I did. It was when questions became personal that I got annoyed. Where were the parents? I tried to put the kid off by acting ignorant about it. I was just a delivery driver doing my job.
He persisted, and I snapped. I gave him a cuff round the ear and got sacked.
Loved my job, hate children.
I wrote this in response to this week’s Friday fictioneers.