CORVUS

1.

Corvus rocked nervously on the balls of his feet. He hadn't meant to muck up that poor woman's order, and he hadn't meant to almost kill her in the process, but he had done. His boss stared down at him, her blue eyes narrowed in rage and her soft features contorted in fury. It felt like he had been trapped in her tiny office for hours, and although he had blocked out most of her angry tirade, the room was making him awfully nauseous.

He pulled absently at the edge of his hair, his eyes wandering around the room. There was a tiny bookshelf in the corner, a filing cabinet, and an ancient desk littered with framed photographs and sealed bills. It was terribly dull and lifeless – no wonder the woman was such a bore.

"Hey!" She snapped once she realised that the subject of her disappointment was drifting, "Are you even listening?"

Corvus blinked. "Yes?"

If anything, his answer seemed to make her even angrier. She sighed and ran a frustrated hand through her blond hair, manicured fingernails scratching softly at her scalp. "You cannot keep working for this company if you can't focus solely on your work, Black! How many times do I have to tell you?"

Corvus didn't answer, his eyes flickered back towards her desk. According to her calendar, she was due in for a dentist appointment in three days.

"Oi! Black!" She waved a hand in front of his face, "What did I just say?"

"Sorry," Corvus shook his head, "Can I go now?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "You really are a lunatic. Did you honestly not hear a word that I just said?"

Corvus blinked. "Yes?"

"You're a bad liar, Black," She shook her head so that her blond curls settled softly on her shoulders, "And you're a bad barista too – you're fired."

He supposed he really have ought to have seen that coming – he had almost unintentionally killed a customer that afternoon – but for some, strange reason his heart jumped as he left the building. He tried not to let it show, that muggle coffee shop had been his first job, and he had almost lasted five years working there before he had inevitably gotten himself fired. It wasn't entirely his fault, he tried to reassure himself as he crossed the road. He should have really taken the day off and called in sick. It was a poor way to honour his brother, getting himself fired.

He made his way down the street as quickly as he could. The sun was due to be setting soon, and he had to be there by ten that night. He checked his watch. It was quarter too.

By the time he had gotten to the end of the street it was already five too, and he found himself sprinting the rest of the way like a college student who had missed the bus. His satchel smacked against his side and the summers air dug into his skin, but he kept going. He tore around the corner, dodging groups of smoking teenagers and dog walkers, and heaved himself through the rusting iron gates just as the old rustic clock chimed ten. Breathing in deeply, he recollected himself and his thoughts before walking down the familiar path towards the little stream that ran through the cemetery's western corner.