There it was. The sound that you dreaded. The lock clicked behind you, and you and Mischa were trapped in the music closet. Everyone else had left for the day. You and Mischa very much disliked each other. He shook the doorknob angrily and slowly turned to face you.

“You…” He seethed, his Ukrainian accent thick as ever. “You did this. It’s your fault. Get me out of here.”