TheArtistCantDraw

My dreams were surprisingly dark that night, filled with bouncing laughter and a shadowy figure following me. I never saw them move, but there was a tangible malice radiating off of them. I woke in a cold sweat that morning, before the sun rose, but tried to shake it off and get ready for work. I had started a new job at a book store, which I thought would have been fun, but the manager had a particular dislike for me and always tried to make my job harder. Whether it was dusting all of the shelves, reorganizing the messiest areas, or helping out the meanest customers, I would be the one to do it. My shifts dragged on almost painfully, but I