And the damn spot I was trying to get wouldn’t come up. What even was it? Baked pizza cheese? Something from the tenant before me? I scrubbed at it harder and harder, my arms aching, hair falling in my face. But it wouldn’t come up. Nothing would make it budge. I growled, throwing the Brillo pad and plopping down on my butt as my chest heaved, and I stared at that spot, my eyes blurring. “It won’t come off,” I said, voice breaking as I gestured to the dark, mysterious smudge on my otherwise spotless oven. “I can’t get it off.”
