This is torture.
I swear my arms were about to fall off just from changing all those stupid curtains. My whole body was already begging for mercy, but Miss Pen wanted me to wipe windows too? Yeah, no thanks. They looked clean enough, and I already felt like I was gonna pass out. She’ll live.
I finally clipped the last emerald curtain in place and dragged myself down the ladder, staring at it like it personally offended me. That thing looked heavy—and I had to get it out of here by myself because, of course, no one's around when I actually need help.
With a deep breath, I started dragging it across the floor, only to flinch when I heard that awful screeching noise. My eyes dropped to the floor, and… oh no.
Scratch. A real one.
Shoot. I mean, I do want to get fired eventually, but not b
