I Am Done Collecting Trash

Summary

I was just settling into bed, sliding my noise-canceling headphones on to drown out the world with some lo-fi beats, when the music cut out.

Instead of the soothing piano, a high, saccharine giggle bled through the speakers.

"I told you she was faking that strawberry allergy," a girl’s voice whispered, thick with a performative shyness. "Did you hear her earlier? She wasn't exactly holding back."

"I timed you guys, by the way," a second voice chimed in—a different girl, playful and sharp. "Two hours and twenty-three minutes. Honestly, Mr. Shaw, I’m impressed. You’ve got stamina."