The disaster

With a light thud, the bottle hit the table.

“Nooooooooo…” she crooned, quickly scooping up the bottle using only her fingertips. It was too late though, as the sticky brown substance began to march onward across the desk.

Erratic, she tried to find a place to put the bottle down so as to begin to move other things out of the way in time. She proceeded to place the sticky bottle on a magazine to get her action figures out of the way.

“Noooooooo…” Having moved them out of the way, she flailed over to grab some paper towels, tissues, napkins. Whatever it was she had around her desk that could help ebb the outgoing tide. She had to reach a little further from her chair and her coat sleeve knocked the bottle right over again.

She shrieked. When her father knocked on her door to ask what was wrong, she could only continue to dab up spilled soda.

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