Xylophone

Sandy wanted to murder the instructor every time she hit the brightly painted kids’ xylophone, sounding the three-toned chime that signaled time was up on the typing exercise. ‘Ruby Lips,’ as Sandy called her because of her overly bright red lipstick, had this illusion that it made the classes more fun. But Sandy was determined to get her secretarial diploma at the community college. She had screwed up her life royally, but this time she planned to see things through. No more messing around; she had no intention of remaining a grocery cashier in nowheresville the rest of her life.