KAIA
I’m exhausted.
Okay, maybe not fall-on-the-floor-and-sob exhausted, but definitely who-knew-smiling-for-hours-could-make-your-face-hurt exhausted.
First day of work? Check.
Still employed? Check.
Social battery? Deceased.
I cross the road and drag myself to the apartment like a grown woman with bills to pay. Because I am. And I do. And damn, working is ghetto. And I'm saying this on my first day of work. Maybe I'm just lazy.
By the time I reach my door, the sun's already doing that dramatic golden glow thing, like it’s proud of me or something. Good for you, Sun. Rub it in.
I pull out my keys and unlock the door but of course, because my life’s a sitcom, it doesn’t budge.
Right. The chair.
I’d sneakily jammed it under the doorknob when I was leaving this morning like I was i
