One week later,
BROOKE CLAYTON.
“Babe, your nose is bleeding”. Carla, called to me with a panicked tone. She handed me a napkin while ushering me to sit on a stool. “You've been working all week non stop, you need to rest”.
I exhaled, peeling the rubber gloves off, rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans. “I know Carla, but the extra cash this week, would help when I take my summer classes”.
“Brooklyn, when you get your degree, and you're unfit to work because of your health, all this would go to waste”. She rubbed my shoulder soothingly. “You need to rest and I'll give you the money”.
“Hell no! Carla —”. She just gave me a scolding look, one a parent would give.
“Now, let me finish this dishes”. She said, getting ready to scrub the pots,
