Chapter Three

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Maria Eduarda

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Maria Eduarda

I wonder how much time a human being can live while sleeping 2 hours per night.

Guess I'm the subject of my own research.

After twist and turning on my bed all night, I only managed to drift off to sleep when the sun was already starting to rise, and of course my alarm went off less than 2 hours later. I dragged myself out of bed and drank about three big cups of coffee till I felt slightly more funcional, enough so I could shower.

Today is my first day, but I still don't know where's the house I'm going to work. The girl from Housekeeping Inc. told me to be at the office at 8 and they would tell me which client I was assigned for. So after a quick shower, I put on my jeans and a red tank top with spaghetti straps - they said I'll try the uniform once I'm there.

After tying my hair up on a bun, I just take my coat and run downstairs, greeting Mr. Flores with a high pitched hello as I run past him. My car is parked two blocks away, Mr. Trevino's car in the same across the street ever since Wednesday night - I swear to God he is taking the bus to work just so he won't lose the spot. It's ridiculous.

There's morning traffic, but it's not as bad as it could be, considering it's Monday. I drive all the way to Town Square with Bobo's windows down - by the way, Bobo is my car - so I won't be all sweaty once I get there. Even though is still 7 in the morning, the sun is already hot on the sky, the typical Florida heat never failing to burn us all.

Luckily, there's a parking lot right across the street from my brand new employer - I mean, the company that hires me so I can work in other people's houses. Apparently I'll know who is my indirect employer today, at least I hope it happens.

"Hi, I'm Maria Eduarda." I greet the girl from the reception, slightest out of breath from the combination crossing the street running and my heart beating fast with nervousness. "It's my first day today, I'm here to talk with... Mr. Sigler?"

"Just a minute, you can sit over there." The girl throws me a bored look, grabbing the phone and dialing.

I do as she says, sitting on the edge of a leathery brown couch, tapping my foot on the ground while I wait, fingers shoved inside of my mouth so I can bite my nails, a nasty habit I've been trying to get rid of for years, but never managed to. Dani even bought me a nail polish that tastes awful, but it wasn't enough to stop me. I'm a lost cause, apparently.

"Ms. Walsh?" A thunderous voice calls my name and I jolt from the couch, so fast one could thing I was sitting on a hedgehog. The guy who just called me, a man around his 40s, throws me a funny look before nodding. "Please, follow me."

I do as he says, looking down to make sure I won't trip over my own feet. We enter a door behind the reception balcony and I follow the guy through a long corridor with green walls and hardwood floors, all shiny and meticulously clean - which I guess is suitable, considering the type of services they offer here.

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