Joremi felt a tight hand grasp his shoulder, and he fought the urge to shrug away from it. It was his father, guessing by how he was squeezed just a little too much. I’ll be watching you, it reminded him. The young man’s plastic smile didn’t waver, and neither did his gaze, trained far away on where he would make his entrance.

“Five minutes.” Someone dressed in black reminded, before scurrying away to do God knows what. Everyone was always hurrying backstage, off to do some probably pointless task. It was too chaotic for Joremi’s taste, but did he really have a say in the matter?

This wasn’t new to him. Interview after interview, one overly enthusiastic TV personality after another. Tonight’s was with a woman whose name he couldn’t quite remember. The people seemed so similar, they blended together pretty quickly. It started with a C, or maybe a K…

“Joremi, why don’t you come on out?”

Joremi blinked, startled at how fast the five minutes went by. The hand on his shoulder loosened after a heartbeat, ushering him forward, through a heavy black curtain. Applause greeted him. He immediately straightened up, even more so than he had already been and he did his best to radiate confidence, and not to scrunch up his face at the obnoxious brightness of the stage lights.

The same as every other time.

He took a seat on the couch, back straight, legs crossed, and hands folded neatly in his lap. He listened to the woman (Cathy, Christine?) ramble on about how exclusive of an interview this was and how lucky they were to be here with them.

Whatever, lady, he thought, Let’s just get this over with already. He could already feel the sweat creeping up the back of his neck from the heat of the lights.

Finally, after an eternity, she turned away from the cameras and crowd to face him.

“So, Joremi, can you tell us a bit about yourself?”

He had rehearsed this. He knew the perfect answers.

“Of course.” Smile. “I am a taxidermist. I preserve the remains of dead animals to be put on display. I do work for museums, nature centers, and families.”

The lady nodded, satisfied. Good.

“How did you get into taxidermy?”

Another expected question. He swore they all asked the same things.

“Well, I am an only child and had to find ways to entertain myself when my parents were busy. I was very much interested in Ancient Egypt and became fascinated by their process of mummification. Combine that with a deep love for animals and, well, it was obvious for me.”

Another nod.

The rest of the interview continued most of the same way. Expected, and endlessly repeated, questions were thrown at him as if they were something new to actually think about. He just gave the same answered he always did. Not even “Have you ever taxidermied a person?” was original. He’d heard it all before.

As the interview drew to a close, he rose, flashing one last smile to the camera and crowd, before stepping towards the woman (whose name he was no closer to figuring out) and extending his gloved hand for a handshake.

“Thank you for having me. It was an honor.” He said for the thousandth time. It was always an honor.

He walked back to the wings, tension escaping his shoulders once he was perfectly hidden behind the curtains.