October 17, 2016.

SPOOKTOBER STORY #8:

As my fingers fall on the keys, heavy and inevitable, I find myself typing the words: "Brand Strategist". My stomach heaves. What am I doing? Why is this happening to me? I feel cold, and realize my body is coated with sweat: clammy, awful.

I look at the page. Next to "Brand Strategist" I type something that looks like "Marketing Expert," or at least I think that's what it says, my eyes are glazed with tears of pain, gut-wrenching terror, and all I can see is a dim blur.

By the time I even think to type "Visual Engineer," I'm curled on my floor, in the fetal position, dry-heaving, wishing I was dead.