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Curt 2
CURT POV
"Crap," I yell as I search my disaster area of a room.
I need a shirt that can pass for clean after a run through the dryer. But running it through the dryer means going downstairs to the apartment complexes laundry mat, and somehow I slept through my alarm. I have ten minutes until I am late, and it takes fifteen minutes to even get to my parent's house.
Finally, I find a blue polo that smells okay. I dart to the stairs and head down while hoping there is at least one machine open. Luck would have it; there isn't. I slam my body down into one of the plastic waiting chairs. My head falls into my hands, and I groan.
Everything about my life is pure shit. I hate everything, and I can't even summon up the strength to fix anything. I am at the point where I don't care. I am probably the picture of disaster right now.
My pants are unbuttoned, my hair is uncombed, my face has three days
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