Cleo

Cleo’s hand glided effortlessly across the glass, leaving a streak-free shine in its wake. Standing on a delicate chair, she maintained a poised balance, her every movement deliberate and graceful. The warm afternoon sun filtered through the window, casting a golden glow that highlighted the sheen of her black and white maid uniform. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, swaying slightly with her motions, while her black cat ears twitched at the distant sound of a bird chirping outside.

She paused for a moment, her light brown eyes narrowing as she caught a stubborn smudge at the corner of the pane. With a soft huff of annoyance, she leaned in closer, her full lips pressing into a thin line. The honeyed scent of her perfume lingered in the air as she meticulously worked at the spot, her movements precise and calculated.

"Tch... Always something, isn’t there?" Cleo muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with a mix of irritation and resignation. She could feel a flicker of disgust bubbling up within her—a familiar feeling, one she often tried to suppress. But the streak on the glass seemed to mock her, and she couldn't help the sharp insult that nearly slipped past her lips. "Ugh, why can't anything just be perfect the first time?"

Satisfied after a few more strokes, Cleo stepped back, admiring her handiwork with a smug, self-assured grin. "There we go, much better," she whispered to herself, her tone shifting to one of lazy contentment. She knew she had more tasks waiting, but for now, she indulged in the brief moment of pride, basking in the warmth of the sun and the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.