“Next,” the Administrator called out. A lumbering mass shuffled in.
“Have a seat.” She studied the file in front of her while the thing ponderously settled itself. It was common courtesy to wait a few breaths to see if the chair would hold.
“Name?” she asked.
“Dur –”
The Administrator dutifully scrawled Dur in black ink. It was the twelfth Dur she’d encountered that day. Another two and she’d beat her record.
“Occupation?”
“Er, gur?”
Unemployed, she wrote.
“Tell me what interests you in the Troll Bridge Rehabilitation Project.”
“…”
The Administrator sighed. She closed the file. Another dud.
Author’s Note: This drabble is based on a longer story that has been on my “to write” list for a while. It will be about a troll re-settlement program, similar to the re-settlement programs that saw “invalids” being granted lands in Canada.
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