Because it’s always worth hearing the other side of things, apparently.
I must’ve been the only one not wearing orange in that damn town. Looked like the gods had spilled a jar of mango jam right down the mountainside. Thought my eyes might pop out at the sight of it all. I’ve never liked orange; it’s an ostentatious colour.
I might’ve liked to stay in, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not with what was hidden under my shawl. There was no turning back.
You can imagine I was nervous. Sweating like a 40-tear-old in labour. To top it off, right as I went by these two little squirts start blowing their whistle like it’s the last one on earth. I suppose childhood friendships ought to seem cute: youths going arm in arm and all that. Maybe when it’s not so noisy.
I pass them by. I’ve almost made it to the safety of the crowd.
But it’s time to quicken my pace. There’s a furrow-browed cretin only three steps back, and it looks like he knows something.
Thank you so much for reading, you are too kind. No, really, I assure you the pleasure has been all mine, what.