That morning, I got a call.
"Eleanor!" I exclaimed when I picked up the phone, jumping out of my bed with excitement. I fell because I'm so clumsy (UwU) and hit my small cute round bbl-free butt on the floor.
"Hello, I am Eleanor's secretary, Martha. I received the message you left yesterday and apologize for not responding before. This establishment closes at 6pm, and your call was placed after business hours. How may I help you?"
I was disappointed and very embarrassed. Finally mustering up the courage to respond, I brought the phone up to my face again, dying of internal cringe (thank God it was just a voice call), "Oh, I-I'm s-sorry."
"That's okay, we made the mistake of not indicating our business hours on the card. I will see to it that that is fixed."
"Oh, o-okay," I stuttered, "Um, may you please pass the phone to Ms. Eleanor Arthur?"
"I will see if she is available," the cool, robotic voice on the other side of the call said, "Please hold."
I wondered if Martha was even human.
As my phone sang a horrendous waiting room tune, I wondered what the fuck I was doing. The wait was longer than I expected, and I became more and more nervous with every passing second. Finally, I heard a break in the noise with a small click, like one of those corded office phones was being picked up.
"Y/n?" A familiar posh accent flooded my desperate ears.
I gripped my phone hard, my tiny hands trembling.
"Eleanor?"
