Facing this smiling debtor had Carson more than confused. You’d expect a person to break down crying knowing they’re seventeen grand in debt—hell, he didn’t even like owing five bucks—but this client? They looked like they’d go out right after this appointment and spend another thousand on something they didn’t need.

You see, Carson’s job was being a debt collector. Yup. Those people don’t just spawn out of thin air, and no, they’re not NPCs. It’s not exactly a job you ever hear a kid say they want to do when they grow up. But life had a way of handing him things he didn’t plan for.

Talking to unhappy, miserable, barely-scraping-by clients was exactly as you’d imagine. He’d been told all sorts of colorful things—his personal favorite being, “Would you do this to an old grandma like me?” right before she told him to go eat her dead husband’s ass. He’d had his fair share of slammed phones, screaming matches, even tears. Sometimes, his days felt like one long string of human misery, wrapped in polite phone etiquette and fake empathy.

He used to have more hair, too. Now, his temples had begun to thin, and he wasn’t sure if it was stress or his orange cat, Gary, pulling it out in the night while he slept. Probably both.

Still, he stayed. Not because he liked confrontation or had a taste for power, but because, every once in a while, someone made it worth it. Watching a person crawl out of a hole they thought they’d die in—it did something to him. The tired, trembling smiles of relief, the phone calls where someone’s voice cracked as they said, “I finally paid it off,”—that was enough. Those moments made the job feel like less of a punishment.

Today, though, he wasn’t sure what to feel.

Across from him, the client leaned back in the chair, calm, smiling as if the world wasn’t collapsing around them. Their nails were painted. Their clothes looked new. Their expression said I’m fine, and their ledger said you’re not.

“We can move your payment plan to the last day of each month since you aren’t meeting the twentieth-date deadlines,” Carson said, keeping his voice even. He’d learned not to sound too harsh or too kind—it was a thin balance. “But you need to start paying, or this debt is just gonna grow.”