She's a Rejector

I have to work at this Nursing Home six days a week in order to pay for my apartment and school, the school that my father is forcing me to attend. I take law classes at Yale so my dad will stop looking at me like I’m a disappointment.

My boss hates me and gives me all the worst jobs. Yesterday I had to change Mr. Blackman’s piss-soaked sheets; I smelled of urine for the rest of my shift. Today I have to go through the East Wing and collect all the full bedpans. Marc, another man who works here, didn’t tell me where the clean pans were. I guess they’re all going to poop on the floor.

I was halfway done with this hallway; and then I saw two blue orbs. Gorgeous, beautiful eyes on a pale face. Then she spoke, her voice strong but still feminine. I knew I should respond, and I was going to, but then my arm hit the cart. It seemed in slow motion almost, the feces flying through the air. The brown mush stood out, contrasting with the starch white floor.

“Have fun cleaning that up.” She said sarcastically, stepping around the mess. I wanted to say something in return but she was already gone.

Maybe that was for the best, since me and words don’t get along.