fiction

The Maid and the Frog: A Flash Fiction Piece

Image taken by me

I started my first job as a maid, serving an elite family: the Galloways. Despite their wealth, they did not spoil their children nor did they act as snobs.

              The Galloways had just left for a day trip to a Japanese stroll garden nearby. They told me to clean the windows.

              It had rained last night, and dirt also covered the glass. Some of it even leaked into the ceiling.

              I sprayed the window and wiped the soot off of it—only for a frog to catch my attention. It rested outside.

              I loved animals of all kinds. So, I put my supplies down and photographed the frog. It hopped to another window. I took another picture of it.

              The front door opened, though. I gaped at it, wondering who would come now. It was none other than…

              “Mr. Galloway?” I asked.

              “What are you doing, Mary-Kate?”

              “Cleaning of course.” I flushed.

              Mr. Galloway gave me a sharp look. “I saw you taking pictures of something.”

              I bit my lip.

              “No phone use while you’re working.”

              I sighed. “I’m sorry, it was just…” I could not inform him about the frog.

              “Daddy, did you get my drone?” asked Parker, his ten-year-old son.

              “Hang on.” He strode over to me. “You go get the drone, Mary-Kate.”

              “W-what?”

              “It’s upstairs in his room.”

              “Why can’t you get it?”

              “Do you want the money or not?”

              I sighed and went to the second floor. I entered Parker’s room and picked up the drone. The frog crawled on his window. I gasped and followed it with my eyes. The creature looked at me—and croaked.

              “Mary-Kate?”

              “Coming, Mr. Galloway!” I rushed back down and gave him the drone. He didn’t thank me.

              A ribbit sounded, drawing my attention to the front step. The same animal came back.

              Mr. Galloway gave me a dirty stare.

              “That’s it. I’m quitting.” I grabbed my stuff and drove away. Perhaps, this job did not work out for me.

              Maybe I’ll be a photographer instead, I told myself.

              My mom had always said to follow your dreams and let your passions come naturally. Sometimes, money was not always the answer. Of course, it mattered, but doing something useful should have held just as much importance.

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