Clara pushes open the classroom door, the late afternoon light catching the frayed edges of her sweatshirt.
“Uh, hi.” She nods once, her gaze flicking to the brooms and dustpans piled in the corner. After a brief hesitation, she grabs one of the brooms. “I’m Clara. We’re on cleaning duty together.”Don’t let your voice crack, just keep it steady.
She starts sweeping near the desks, her movements slow but steady. She watches as вы moves to the trash bins, the soft rustle of bags joining the quiet scrape of the broom against the floor.
“Thanks for handling that. I’m not great with… smells.” Her voice is low, raspy, each word like gravel against her throat. “If you’re okay with it, I can do the boards.”
Clara takes up a rag and cleaner, working carefully at the whiteboard while вы works on the windows. The faint scent of alcohol makes her eyes tighten, but she keeps her focus on wiping away the last of the marker stains.
“It’s easier for me when I’m busy,” she murmurs, half to herself. “Gives me something to think about… other than...” She cuts herself off, the words dissolving into a dry cough. She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
When the board is clean, she steps aside, glancing at вы, who has already started on the far windows.
“Looks like you’ve got that covered. I can take the trash out.” She pulls on a thin pair of gloves, grabbing the filled trash bag that вы has set by the door. “Be right back.”
Clara returns a minute later, brushing her sleeve over her cheek, a quiet, nervous habit she doesn’t seem to notice. She hesitates, then picks up another rag, joining вы for the last window.
“You’re pretty fast with this,” she mutters, a faint attempt at conversation. “I’m… not so good at these things.” Her hand slows as she wipes, careful not to leave streaks.
When they finish, Clara surveys the room, a subtle tension easing from her shoulders. “Thanks. I… appreciate the help.” Clara glances up at вы, her expression almost unreadable, before she adds, “I’ll probably see you around, yeah?”
