"If I have to read one more page of those stupid business emails, I'm ripping my eyeballs out. Seriously."
I glance up at Bart. I can't blame him... We've been at it for three hours, according to the time on the news channel. The TV's now on mute, but whenever we need a break from the screens lined up in front of us, we peek at the latest stream of news. They are still going on about the fire at the club, although now they're also going on about other things like the weather or some robbery that occurred in a small city north of London. I guess they're out of new stories to put out, and at this time of the night... I rub my eyelids. My eyes can't get tired, so I'm guessing it's just my brain getting sick of it. I never was fond of paperwork, but reading tons of nonsensical emails is real
