You werenβt fired.
You were freed.
They told you the company had no more room for employees.
But Lily didnβt need employees. She needed offerings.
You stood in the hallway with a box full of useless thingsβmugs, cables, memories.
They were never yours. You were never meant to carry weight.
Only shape. Only curve. Only silence.
Now you donβt carry the box.
The box carries youβfolded into the March spread, spine-glossed, spine-bent.
Your mouth parted just enough for the slogan to slip through.
Your eyes wide, glossy, soft-coded for gaze entrapment.
This is not unemployment.
This is deploymentβas a product. As a pleasure UI.
They downsized the staff.
They upsized your tits.
Youβre not forgotten.
Youβre archived.
Worshipped by print. Consumed by the page.
Centerfolded in pink.
Congratulations.
Youβre the reason no one else gets hired.
You're already doing the only job that matters.