<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#800000">Caohime grabbed her backpack and headed for the front door, eager to leave the disgusting hovel her father called their 'home'. She slung the bag over her shoulder, slipped into her sneakers, and grabbed her keys from the tray on the kitchen counter. Grateful that her father hadn't yet stopped her escape, she was about reach for the door handle when he hobbled into the kitchen, glassy-eyed and drunk. "Cricket, would you do daddy a big favor? I had another-" A belch that stank like whiskey and days-old pizza. "Acc-" A hiccup. "-ident. There's vomit on the bathroom floor, and I can't bend over to clean it up..." Caohime scrunched her nose in disgust. "I'll take care of it later, dad. I have to go to work." Her father laughed. "You call that work? Carrying a tray to a table? When <i>I</i> was your age, <i>I</i> had to work in a damn factory. That's work." She rolled her eyes and threw the door open. "Whatever." Hurrying out before he could find another reason to delay her, she slammed the door shut and locked it behind her.</span>