Cleaning for Annabelle: A Hollywood Journey of Resilience and Growth

Brian was a man of simple needs, and that was why he had chosen this line of work. The wealthy of today, they seemed to have lost sight of what was truly important. What this world was truly about.

People like Miss Annabelle were the worst. To be born with everything and never learn to appreciate it.

The door to her estate creaked as Brian pushed it open. The hinges must need oiling, he thought to himself.

It had been two days since his last visit, and even though it was still early evening, the sun had already set. He didn't mind though, he had grown accustomed to working in darkness ever since he took this job. After all, you don't want to see every little spot on your customer's carpet when you're cleaning it.

The house looked exactly how it did the last time he had been here. It was a mess, but one that was somewhat organized for its own sake rather than functional purpose. A pile of magazines sat in one corner, along with a collection of beer bottles scattered across the room. It looked as if someone had taken an axe to the furniture: chairs broken up into pieces and thrown against the wall, some sort of paper bag or blanket laying on the ground in another corner with its contents spilling out onto the floor. He supposed that Miss Annabelle would be back soon enough to clean up after herself once she got done whatever she was doing out there in Hollywoodlandia with all those other stars who thought they were better than everyone else because they could read lines off a page without stuttering or forgetting their lines.

Brian walked around methodically, placing his tools on the floor where they would be convenient for him when he needed them again later and unrolling his cleaning cloths from their hangers as he went along. First he would wipe down the foyer and entranceway, then move on to dusting and sweeping through all the rooms upstairs before making his way back down again to vacuum and scrub away at the floors themselves. He wasn't concerned about getting dirty - after all, there weren't many places people could find cleaner floors than those of a movie star's mansion! - but he did prefer not to leave any evidence that he had been there when he left, lest Miss Annabelle get upset by something she saw while trying to live in squalor as if it were normal or something.

He started in the foyer at his usual pace: wiping down all surfaces until they shone and dusting away things left behind by careless guests who did not care for other people's property as much as they should have before moving on to wipe down all the door handles and fixtures which led off from the main hallways throughout the house. When he finished these areas and moved towards one of the side doors leading into an adjacent corridor where most of the bedrooms were located, however, he heard something unusual: talking?

He paused for a moment before proceeding forward again into the hallway where he found Miss Annabelle sitting on her bed amidst what appeared to be a sea of clothing strewn across her mattress with a book in her hand reading aloud from its pages while another lay open beside her on her nightstand. At first she didn't seem to notice him - just continued reading aloud with no change in cadence or tone - but as she drew closer towards where Brian stood at the edge of her room staring at her she stopped suddenly in mid sentence without looking up from her book and spoke up suddenly: "You're early."

"Early?" asked Brian confusedly before realizing what she meant: "Oh! No ma'am I wasn't I just..." He trailed off awkwardly as she looked up at him from overtop of her book now resting upon her knees with eyes wide open in surprise at seeing him standing there so soon before returning back to her previous position and continuing with her reading aloud again without saying anything further about it after that brief momentary pause between them two followed shortly by Brian turning around and walking back out into the hallway towards where his bucket waited for him at one end near where he'd been working moments ago on his knees scrubbing away at a particularly grime-filled part of one wooden surface whose paint job must have long since faded away over time due to years upon years worth of humidity fluctuation depending upon whether or not it rained outside that day causing water leakage within its walls causing mold growth within its wood frame causing rot within its structure causing... Well you get the idea anyway!