Ten minutes ago, the CEO's home keeper —an elder woman, Mrs Grace— found me alone in the sitting room. She ushered me into one of the guest rooms upstairs and told me to call her whenever I need something.
I'm sprawling over the mattress, hopelessly zoning in and out. I can't focus on a single train of thought because there are so many unanswered questions in my head that no matter what direction I try to point at, it doesn't make any sense. Perhaps if I had majored in Psychology at college and not Cosmetology, my brain will have find more explanatory answers by now. But then again, I wouldn't have gotten an internship with Flamingo's Facial Creams Substitute Department, right?
I'm taking this as one of the advantages of studying Cosmetology.
There's a knock on the door that makes me si
