AWKWARD JOB by Christopher T Dabrowski
translated by: Magda Woźniak
Harvest has begun, so there will be a lot of mowing. A lot of it. Honestly, it all points to a bumper crop this year. It would be fine if not for the fact that she dislikes this tiring task. It is fine for a man, but not for a woman. But what to do about this...
Sharpening a blade she winces sharply, as if she has unexpectedly eaten something spicy. A scythe. Why is it always a scythe? After all, the world moved on! As if she could not do it driving a tacky combine harvester.
And these rags—frayed, scratchy fabric. In winter it was too cold in those clothes, in summer too hot. Divine retribution!
It is hard to be Death! All the more reason during the Third World War.