FICTION | POVERTY | BUREAUCRACY Carrying the dead through the world of the living. This digital painting was generated by author using AI, adapted from an original photograph. Content Warning: ​Contains visceral depictions of death, and physical decay that some readers may find distressing. By winter, my sister had become lighter than the blanket that covered her. When the conductor reached me, he looked once at the bundle against my chest, and said, “Half-ticket?” I nodded before thinking. He tore the ticket and moved on. For the rest of the journey I could not stop staring at that pink scrap of paper in my hand. Half-ticket . Perhaps the world had finally found the correct price for her. Outside the bank, men stood in little islands of sunlight drinking tea from plastic cups. Nobody looked rich enough to own the building, yet the building belonged to all of them more than it belonged to me. I waited for the shutters to rise.…