CJ practically fell into his shack as Vaughn held the door open for him. His high had long since passed, but in its wake had left his mind broken and his filter no more than a sheet of rice paper in a tornado. Vaughn's heart sank as he saw the still shattered TV laying abandoned on the floor. The brunette sauntered across his wooden floor, throwing his pack of cigarettes at his nightstand and missing completely before throwing himself upon the old couch, thankfully sticking the landing. Vaughn noticed his dangling hand, and took the other man's phone from his limp grip. He looked around before finding his well-worn charger, and plugged it in.
"Thank you, all you, ya'll make my life not hurt so much," CJ's words started to slur as his volume control checked out of the motel that was his brain. His eyelids drooped.
Vaughn hid in the darkness by the door as he watched CJ pass out. He left without a word.

CJ awoke to his phone's ringtone tearing off his ears. He shot up, still in his smoke-worn clothing and boots from the night before, and searched for wherever his phone disappeared to. He hauled himself to his feet, dived toward the wall outlet, and unlocked it without checking.
"Hello?" He groaned into the microphone. No response. CJ lifted the phone away and checked the name. It was Mark, but CJ heard nothing but silence on the other end. He hung up and texted his brother. Not a minute after, Mark's typing icon came up, with a confirmation. He hadn't called. CJ's finger drifted through his call log, but the previous call didn't exist. His head hurt, but his capacity to care ended there. He locked his phone again and got to work attempting to make himself presentable. Seeing Mark's name had reminded him of some shopping he needed to do.

CJ exited Chen's shop with a good $20 worth of turnip and potato seeds in his rucksack. He was going all out with a good chunk of what money he had left in an attempt to secure income going forward. He was about to turn around and march his way back to his secluded, quiet ranch where he no longer dealt with the danger of social interaction when he noticed a bulletin board to the side of Chen's shop. Out of curiosity, he stopped to read, when something caught his eye.
Held up with an orange-tipped pushpin was an advertisement for a job at the cemetery.

HELP WANTED
Grave caretaker/gravedigger when needed.
Pay negotiable.
For more information, please contact Gray Brigant.

CJ's eyes grew wide. He took down the contact number and snatched the slip of paper off the corkboard.

A little past the swamp in the forest lied an expansive graveyard, a tiny decrepit church, and a shack off in the distance. Small, careful steps between tombstones brought CJ to the church, where the graveyard's overseer had directed him to come over the phone. He began to knock on the door, but the first knock shoved the push door in. He shuffled in, embarrassed.
At the end of the old carpet between the two rows of crumbling pews lied an old statue on an altar. It was broken and jagged, its form slightly resembling a woman. CJ stood for a second, staring, before his attention darted up to the door to the left opening.
A man in his mid forties wearing coveralls and a trucker hat exited into the church's main room.
"You CJ?" He asked curtly as he looked back down over the papers he held in his hands.
CJ's voice faltered, and he nodded.
"I'm Gray," The man clarified. "I'm the overseer. You'd be working for me."
The younger man looked back at the would-be statue and felt his stomach begin to turn. The frayed edges of painful memories brushed by his train of thought.
"Are you a pastor?"
Gray chuckled, his laugh low and dark. "Hell no."
CJ's stomach settled.
"I'm just a mortician that keeps this place in one piece."
A ratty tapestry fell off the wall and took its hanging rod with it.
"Well, relatively."
The two men both gave the same faint laugh.
"I do funeral rites, too, but only based on what the family wants. I ain't nothin' beyond that." CJ nodded. "So, let's go over the duties. You'll be cleaning headstones whenever they need it, helping me out with funerals, generally maintaining the grounds. Keeping the graves look nice. Digging new graves as needed, etcetera. Ain't gotta work everyday, just when I let you know they need maintenance. May not be that much work per week, but I can give ya $20 an hour. Sound good?"
CJ took a minute to process it all. He nodded in agreement.
"Cool." Gray unhooked a ring of keys from his belt loop at tossed them at CJ. He didn't react in time, and they flew past him, landing on the ground behind him. CJ turned around and picked them up off the floor.
Gray watched awkwardly before breaking the silence. "Those are the shed keys, all the shit you'll need is in there."
CJ nodded again.
"You don't talk much, do ya kid?"
"Sorry," CJ's voice cracked. Gray shrugged.
"I'll call you when the stones are gettin' grody, and I'll show you how to do it. That alright?"
Another nod.
"I guess it's settled then." Gray stepped closer and held out his hand. CJ cautiously placed his own in the older man's, and the two shook on it. A hot vein of fire ripped through CJ's arm up to his spine.

One heavy moon and plenty of ramen later, CJ got to his feet and wiped his brow. A good few plots each of turnips and potatoes sat freshly planted around him. Watering them regularly would hopefully easy to keep up with, he hoped. His arm muscles ached and he was covered in dirt. His line of sight flew upwards to the night sky above, the stars seeming to twinkle only in celebration of his accomplishment. He reared back his head and shoulders and screamed triumphantly back at them.
"Suck it, Mark!"
A cluck of a rather round chicken direction his attention back to the ground, where Adele walked up to his boot and settled down to sleep. He picked her up gently and carried her back to the small coop. He sung softly to himself.
"Think I'm just happy, think I'm just happy..."