19
Emma
I turn off the water and pull open the shower curtain to find the bathroom floor looking like it’s been snowed on. Some bits of paper are so small they float in the air as I step out, hollering, “Puffs!” at the top of my lungs.
That damn cat. He must’ve sensed that I’m about to leave him and his siblings alone for the second evening in a row, so he shredded the entire roll of toilet paper while I was in the shower.
Swearing, I hop around on one foot, trying to get sticky pieces of damp toilet paper off my other foot with a towel. It takes forever to do that, not to mention clean up the bathroom, and the doorbell rings as I’m frantically applying my mascara.
Crap. I’m still in my underwear.
“One sec!” I yell as I rush across the room to grab my clothes from the closet. Mr. Puf
