YouTube, she thought. But her phone was at 3%. The Wi-Fi had blinked out ten minutes ago, because of course it had.
So she improvised.
She remembered something her dad had said once, back when she was twelve and had clogged the other bathroom with a Hot Wheels car. “It’s not about force, kid. It’s about the seal.”
She set the plunger down on a towel, sat on the edge of the bathtub, and laughed. Her phone buzzed. The Wi-Fi was back. A notification popped up: Your landlord liked a tweet.
She texted her landlord: Toilet’s clogged.
His reply came five minutes later: Use a plunger.
On the twelfth pump, the toilet made a sound—a deep, gurgling whoosh —and the water level dropped like a curtain.
Glug.