Ellie's new assignment meant her days were now a surreal blur of gleaming marble, hushed corridors, and the constant awareness that the leader of the free world was just a few feet away. Cleaning the President's private quarters was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. For one, his bedroom smelled faintly of old books and something surprisingly masculine – like pine trees and determination. For another, he left the most peculiar things scattered about.
One morning, she found a half-eaten pickle spear balanced precariously on a stack of important-looking documents. Another time, it was a single, brightly colored feather tucked into the spine of a weighty economic report. She even discovered a miniature, highly detailed model of a spaceship hidden beneath a cushion on his study sofa. These little quirks were a stark contrast to his public persona, and Ellie found herself oddly fascinated.
Agatha Grimshaw, however, remained unimpressed. "The President's private spaces are to be maintained with the utmost discretion, Miss Chen," she'd stated, her voice like sandpaper. "His... personal effects are not to be commented upon, or, heaven forbid, touched unless absolutely necessary for cleaning purposes."
Ellie, of course, had already touched the feather. And the spaceship. And very nearly tasted the pickle (she'd decided against it at the last second).
Her new routine also meant more direct encounters with President Sterling. He was often in his study, buried in papers, or on the phone, his booming voice occasionally carrying through the door. Sometimes, he'd emerge for a quick coffee, looking slightly disheveled and less like a world leader and more like a man who desperately needed a nap.
"Morning, Miss Chen," he'd gruffly nod one day, catching her polishing a bookshelf. "Find anything interesting?"
Ellie, startled, nearly dropped the antique vase she was dusting. "Oh! Good morning, Mr. President! Just... dust. And this very shiny, tiny astronaut helmet!" She held up the miniature helmet from the spaceship model.
President Sterling paused, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. "Ah, yes. That's for deep-space diplomacy. Top secret." He winked. A wink from the President. Ellie nearly fainted.
These little interactions, brief and often absurd, became the unexpected highlights of her day. She was still Ellie, the clumsy cleaner, but now, she was the clumsy cleaner who knew the President preferred his teacups to be perfectly aligned and often left his reading glasses in the most inexplicable places. And he, somehow, seemed to find her peculiar brand of chaos… entertaining.