Catastrophic Events...

Catastrophic Events...

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WpMetadataNoticePublikasi terakhir Min, Agt 15, 2021
I didn't know how else to describe my book so I extracted a piece from one of the chapters. 🤗🥰😅 "I didn't... I didn't want a job but it was so hard to refuse an opportunity like that. So anyways... I went to that coffee shop Fresh Bake and I ordered us 3 chocolate muffins and a blueberry muffin for myself and 2 coffees and a shake but so I decided to sit down and eat my muffin before I came home and the chocolate muffin tasted like shi-" "Bri!language!" interrupts mom. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.. The muffin tasted like shit and I just so happen to be sitting close to the counter and I accidentally said this muffin tastes worst than dog shit and I proceeded to lean over the counter to get their bin and spit that shit out and I goggled my mouth with coffee and I stole a napkin mom. "I say embarrassedly. " You did what Brianna! "she cackles while trying to reprimand me. " Mom! "I say..." That's not even the worst part... "and cover my face. " The head baker just happened to come out at that same exact moment and said who dares insult my delicious chocaltey goodness!?And I said who the fuck are you? And his like, I'm the head baker! Who are you!? Mom I mean it when I say I did not mean to laugh in his face. I couldn't keep it in! " I exclaim still feeling the heat." And after that I said well then I'm afraid to tell you Jerald, but you chose the wrong profession. "
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221B Baker Street was not supposed to be my final destination. It was a pit stop. A temporary, financially questionable decision in one of the most expensive cities in the world. A place to exist quietly. To keep my head down, drink overpriced coffee, and avoid unpacking my emotional baggage. Then I met Sherlock Holmes. And quiet ceased to exist. One minute, I was just a tenant in a slightly dysfunctional flat. The next, I was the unwilling documentarian of absolute madness- ✔ Sherlock, the world's only consulting detective, who refuses to function like a normal human being. ✔ John Watson, who has reached new heights of exhaustion thanks to said detective. ✔ Mrs. Hudson, who is not a housekeeper but absolutely runs this place like a benevolent overlord. ✔ Molly Hooper, the forensic pathologist who is finally terrifying Sherlock (to my endless delight). ✔ Mycroft Holmes, who controls the British government but, more importantly, cannot figure out why I exist. ✔ Lestrade, who shows up mostly to suffer. ✔ And Rosie Watson, who is officially my tiny, all-knowing best friend. I am not a detective. I am not a hero. I am just the one thing Sherlock Holmes cannot deduce. My name is Safa. I babysit Rosie for extra cash, I document Baker Street's chaos out of sheer pettiness, and I gloat about my food just to drive Sherlock insane. I tell myself I don't belong here. That I am still just passing through. But the thing about living at Baker Street? You don't realize you're home until it's time to leave. And for once, Sherlock Holmes never saw it coming.

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