Rolling on my bed, I groaned: a tiring pain. My hands had tiny cut marks, although almost inconspicuous. Although it appeared unnoticeable, it irked me so much for something ridiculous to injure me. It counted as a dramatic change for a person like me to be unable to stabilize his external demons: Jian Hé.
"Sigh, I've worked my damn life away these two days, washing some unknown lavatory—how annoying! And it was all for a crime I didn't commit." I complained, sorrow piling up like office files.
I stood from my bed and strode towards the washroom. Pitter-patter, the shower began! As the water washed me clean, I smiled. Yes, I could only smile at that ghost's stupidity. He was really digging his own grave. I thought (with a sigh) how everything played out.