CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Hana minded her own business at work, avoiding the staffroom and enjoying the repetitiveness of her tasks. She found distraction in administration, making packs for boys and photocopying Sheila’s endless worksheets.
“Please, can you make twenty of these?” Sheila asked, dumping a pocket file on Hana’s desk. It obliterated her keyboard and prevented further typing. “Stuff them into wallets or the boys will lose the application form.” She stalked back into her office. “They always do.”
Hana sighed against the click of the door and examined the paperwork. She jumped as Sheila poked her head back out. “Oh, I need them for my next class.” Click.
Hana dragged herself to her feet and rubbed the small of her back. It ached and she winced as she moved. The photocopier churne
