Rita's Point Of View
The weight of the day sat heavy on my shoulders, as though I'd been carrying the entire office building on my back instead of just my handbag.
By the time I reached my front door, my feet screamed in a way that felt deeply personal, a throbbing rhythm matching the dull ache pulsing through my temples.
I fumbled with the keys, the metal slipping through my tired fingers. They clattered to the ground, and I cursed under my breath before finally managing to shove the door open.
I let it swing shut behind me with a resounding thud that echoed through the quiet hallway... probably too loud, certainly enough to make the neighbors think I was in a mood. Honestly? I was.
"Man, that was stressful," I muttered to the empty coat rack, my voice sounding hollow in the stillness. I kicked off my heels, and the relief that washed over me was so sharp it bordered on spiritual.
