"To Whom It May Concern,"
The letter on your bedside table looks serious.
"Due to an administrative oversight, your gender classification has been updated. Please report for reassignment processing immediately. P.S. Resistance is futile. No, really, we’ve checked."
You stare at the letter.
This is a joke, right?
Then Death clears his throat behind you.
"HMM. I WAS INFORMED THERE WAS A SCHEDULED PICKUP. I SEE THAT WAS INCORRECT."
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