Gracie Abrams is eking out a solitary existence, fighting day-in, day-out against the drain of working customer service and nursing two newborn kittens in her off time. Out on her own ever since her sister moved in with her boyfriend, the burden of...
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
The paint's peeling.
It must have happened over the summer when it had rained so hard that water had shot out from the walls of the laundry shed, which was curved into the earth and half-submerged underground. The water damage must have happened around that time.
I sighed, puffing out my cheeks to keep the cereal from either spitting from my mouth or descending my throat in a sudden move that choked me.
Hable and Sintar mewled in happiness, though I'm not sure how much they could hear their own voices. Perhaps that was why they mewled loudly, so anybody within hearing distance could glean their happiness for themselves.
Feeding kittens from a bottle was difficult work. In the middle of the night, in the morning before work, and twice after work, I had to sit and take care of the little nuggets.
Starving, they cried and clawed at the air for food, but as soon as you put the heated nipple of the bottle anywhere near their mouths, they acted like it was an invasive species trying to steal all their land and make off with their family's gold!
Those were the moments when the frustrated tears unearthed themselves from my otherwise completely-dry eye sockets.
That apathy thing was a bitch, I swear.
I wonder if I'll be okay at work today.
The long nights, broken up by the kittens' feeding at one in the morning, were beginning to wedge dark crescents beneath my green eyes. I'd never been someone who had trouble sleeping. It was almost like my body's last defense to keep me calm and at peace on the outside. Like a: "We better get a full night's rest so we can pretend to be happy for all the people we know tomorrow. If we don't get that full night of sleep, we might actually lose it on someone."
On autopilot, I washed the stray milk from the bottom of my bowl, giving the inside a few half-hearted swipes with the dish wand.
I'll have to squeeze more soap in there soon. Gah. My shoulders started to deflate, weighed down by the thought of reaching into the bottom cupboard, pulling out the blue bottle of Dawn, and taking exactly 45 seconds to squeeze the blue liquid into the end of the dish wand.
What a hassle.
Beginning my preparations for the day, I grabbed my skinny notepad, checking and rechecking my day's agenda:
Ready for work 6-7:30
Work 8-4:30
Kittens 5-5:30
Eat 5:30-6
Boruto 6-8
Kittens 8-8:30
Manga until bed 8:30-
I wasn't super looking forward to the night's anime goal, but whatever. I have to watch it, so I will. I'm not going to stop watching the Naruto franchise just because I have wicked, warring feelings about its sequel.
