It had only been weeks since I started working for Prof. Dwindleton but it already felt like a semester’s worth of mental stress. The job in itself wasn’t particularly complicated. For the most part, I just had to keep his office tidy without moving anything he didn’t know. Cataloging his books and references was a little confusing at first, but it became easier as I went along. The part I dreaded the most was when he’s around and I was prompted to engage in conversations much better put into essays.
Today was no different. I was arranging his hardbound journals on the shelf as he scribbled crazily at his desk, reading the song lyrics I had printed out for him yesterday. He finally let me tidy up the stacks of books on the sofa after a student of his tripped on an unrolled parchment and almost fell face first on the carpet.
“Ms. Usher, what do you think the song Umbrella means?”
