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"At least you live to work another day,' my ass," I said while aggressively using the rough side of a small, blue sponge to scrub at a stuck-on spot of food. "I mean, if I'm a dishwasher for the rest of my time here, then I wouldn't mind being fired a little sooner. If I wanted to be a dishwasher my whole life, then I'd just marry a rich man!"
Zeke—who had just entered—snorted from beside me, only lifting a forearm to limit the amount of laughter when catching a look of the glare I sent his way.
He cleared his throat and carefully edged closer to my 'silently' irritated figure. "Sounds like you're having fun," he said with a snicker, lightly using a finger to prod at my shoulder. "Too bad I'm not longer a rich man, hm?" he joked with a wink, making light of his poorly financial state.
My back hunched as I carefully dropped the plate back into the depths of the soaping water. "Haha. You're so funny, Zeke," I said as sarcastically as humanly possible with a big eye roll that I made sure was seen.
My arms leaned on the brim on the sink—the exposed portion of skin soaking up small and excess drops of lukewarm water that sat abandoned on the metal rim of the large sink.
Zeke smirked and placed a small stack of plates onto my already piling dishes to do. "I know, I'm such a charmer," he said, "But you better finish these fast. We're kinda' running out of dishes . . . if you weren't aware . . . by the amount of dishes you have to do already."
Looking at the pile of plates, cups, bowls, utensils . . . I could see that Naila was right. People really will visit town just for the smallest glimpse of those in the limelight.
It's not even dinner yet.
This is lunch's dishes.
My arms were lifted off the brim as my back straightened. "Yup! I'm onto it," I said only half-heartedly, lunging my arms carefully back into the bubbly water, making sure not to spill it, and picking up the same plate I had abandoned in defeat.
Zeke ruffled my hair, locks of the magenta colour getting stuck in front of my eyes. "Such determination," he said, poking fun at my job once more.
I quickly slapped his reaching hand away—droplets of water catching on his sleeve—and begun to fix the hair that hung from my head into a damp ponytail
"Alright, Zeke. You can go now. Your existence is not needed in my life at this current moment."
Zeke snickered once more, "Oh, so it's sometimes needed?"
I took my yellow, gloved hand closest to him from out of my ponytail and placed it harshly on his face as if I were a cat asking for food, creating little bubbles on the edge of his features as I pushed him away from me.
