in textbooks, a stark contrast to my influencer-wanna
m an alley. "Meet Scrappy!" she squealed, oblivious to my strict allergies and our apartment's no-p
laughed, filming him for her "content" while branding me a "killjoy" and "hater." But it spiraled out of control when S
this cat was a dangerous menace, and Tiffany, wrapped up in her influencer dreams, couldn
eamed, and then, mercifully, nothingness. I woke up. Sunlight streamed through my old apartment window. I heard Tiffany' s chirpy voice from the living