Lizzie & Wanda One shots

Sorry, sir, I'm just doing my job -W.M

Happy Monday, everyone!

Sorry for not posting anything last week, I wasn't feeling very good, mental health-wise. But I'm better now so I'm writing a cute, fun idea I had.

Narrator's POV.

Emma sighed as she sat back down on the uncomfortable chair. Her back was killing her but she needed to finish the vase she was making. 

Her job as a potter, or ceramist, as some insisted on calling her, wasn't easy, especially when everybody lives in a society where everything is mass produced. Handmade products were not as sought as they once used to be. 

Orders came rarely, but when they do they were usually in bulk which meant no breaks for Emma and her poor back. 

But it was her passion so she refused to give up. To let the industry win. Something handmade was way more precious and valuable in her opinion. And in the opinions of the customers she's been having. They weren't many which was sad, but they were enough to keep her business running.

Recently she got a big order that consisted of a bunch of plates, bowls, mugs, and a few vases. She was already done with the plates, she just needed to paint them when she was done with the vases. The customer requested each piece of ceramic to be decorated in its own way, but to slightly match the others. 

Usually, Emma appreciates the freedom of letting her artistic side out, to express however her creativity wants. But when it's one big order like the one she got, it was tiring and quite exhausting thinking of designs unique but also similar enough. It was a challenge, but one she agreed to when she developed this business.

That leaves current Emma hunched over trying to curve the first vase in the perfect way. It was a big one so she knew she had to be careful not to mess up her progress so far. So, with one hand inside the vase, while the wheel was spinning, she lifted the other one and started modeling the clay however she wanted. Slowly and steadily, of course. 

After years of working with clay, she was still careful as her first time handling it.

When she finally worked the clay in the shape she wanted, she took the sponge that sat next to her and started taking the water from inside the vase, out. After that, she stopped the wheel from spinning, dried her hands on her pants, which were already stained with water and old clay, took a string, and ran it under the vase so this way the clay won't be stuck to the plate under it after it bakes. 

Still being as careful as she could, she lifted the plate and put it on a side table for now. After making sure it's safe and won't accidentally fall, as it happened to her before, she finally stretched and allowed her back to crack. 

A serious of cracks and small pops could be heard. It sounded as if someone just decided to pop some bubble wrap.

"I definitely need to go to a chiropractor." Emma muttered still stretching and trying to get a stubborn crack out. When it didn't succeed, she sighed and moved to get herself some water from the small fridge she has in the building.

It wasn't anything fancy. She managed to buy a warehouse at the edge of the city, in a not-so-good area. But she wasn't scared. A few breaks-in happened while she wasn't inside. Nothing was stolen though. What were they going to steal? Clay? Old ass-barely-functioning-equipment? The ceramics that are waiting to be painted and finished? Yeah, she doesn't think so. Nobody wants to steal plates or mugs. If they want though, there's water in the fridge for them, they can steal that. 

She also drives an old car. She is surprised about how it's still working, but she doesn't complain. It was passed in her family from generation to generation. If anything, she would be glad if a thief stole her fucking car. It's ugly and Emma only took it because of peer pressure. The whole 'it has to stay in the family' excuse was the only thing that stopped her from selling it.