I am shoving her suitcase in the car trunk and then shoving it further down between her other bags, is when she says, “what are you doing? Be gentle! This one’s fragile.”
“Yeah?” I say, “Unfortunately I am not your cabin crew … and put a fucking sticker on this thing. Make it bold.”
“I have put a sticker on it. And it is bold. Look,” she points.
“Well then make it more bolder. I can barely see it,” I say.
“There is no such thing as, “more bolder””, she corrects me.
“Well, there is now,” I say, “And sorry, I am not born or brought up or moving to America, unlike some other people. For me, more bolder means, more bolder, you get it? Something I can see or read from 20 mtrs away … And oh! Boulder also means something I want people to get smeared by, when they annoy me.”
“I am sure, you can read this from far. If only you want to,” she says.
“Nope! I can’t. I can’t read or write things. I am stupid. Okay?”
She breathes deeply. Looks away and looks back at me.
“Really? Right Now? God! You are such a jerk” she says, not loud enough for me to hear it but loud enough to grab my attention.
“I heard that!”
“Good. Coz I wanted you to!” She yells, walking towards the house and slams the door behind her.
I stand there, staring at the open car door and appreciating a pigeon fidgeting with a dark spot on the windshield. His feathers are messed up. He is probably hungry too, but look at him; he is so calm and beautiful, he is not shouting at me, plus he is not even flying to a different country by himself. Even though he could – free of cost. This pigeon is a star! Continue reading