Bridgette
Would this day ever end?
The director just wouldn't stop talking—more like bragging. Even his voice was becoming annoying, the accent grating on my nerves.
He'd moved away from his vast collection of stamps to his vast stock spread, and now he talked about his job. I stood there, half-smiling and nodding, listening to his endless string of achievements like he was reading aloud from his résumé.
"And then, of course, we had to cancel the Berlin tour because the organization couldn't meet my demands," he chuckled, pulling at his buttons as if he'd just said something amazing. "But you know how it is—someone else is constantly searching for raw talent."
I let out a dry laugh, trying to be polite. "I'm sure that was… exciting."
He leaned closer, his accent thicker than ever. "Y
