Tanya’s POV
The afternoon sun casts its waning rays of light through my shop window, declaring it the typical time for Mr. Barlow to waltz into my store in clear dire need of some company. And in my store, he is. Despite his elderly appearance and stumpy stature, one could tell he was quite the looker when he’d been in his prime.
He has a smooth bald head, and broad shoulders, although his age means the loss in some strength, it’s apparent he has once been very muscular. If it is not for his terrible drinking habits, maybe he’d still look the same, and smell less of age-old whiskey which tends to put people off. If not for that, Mr. Barlow would’ve had more people to talk to other than just me.
For he is rather charming, in a childish, temperamental, playful sort of way, always cracking a joke or two, before going off on long rambles about stories he deems ever so interesting. Course I never mind, I enjoy the company, and a
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Tanya’s POVThe midday autumn sun rests high in the sky, soothed by a breeze that remains calm and gentle towards all the outdoor stalls and laid out food for the family day event. It begins with various activities for all the families to participate in. Claire skips along in front of us, and I’m comforted by the high spirits that my daughter finds herself in. And I’m ever grateful to Marco for making that happen.He walks calmly beside me. And whilst I wouldn’t blame him for feeling out of place surrounded by all the parents and children. He blends in perfectly. Conversations with other parents seem like a breeze for him, as he plays the role of a wonderful dad, fully in love with his daughter. I can’t help but admire him quietly whilst he speaks or smiles at my daughter’s playful antics. If only this was real life…Nevertheless, I savor the moment and enjoy the day. We get up to loads of things. First, we sto
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Tanya’s POVI race towards the two, my hands pressing firmly against Raphael’s chest, shoving him away from Mr. Barlow. Of course, my hand meets with the bully’s rippled chest, and I can barely push him. He chuckles at my feeble attempt, only stepping back with a malicious grin.Raphael isn’t as tall as Marco, but he is still a decent height for a male. And he didn’t get classed as a bully for no reason. Although muscular, there is no smooth elegance or refinement to his physic. Raphael is a rough piece of work, as if he has been carved with a blunt knife. Curated with jagged edges, a shaggy unkempt beard and buzz cut. He is like a rusty machete, worn, weathered, and ragged, but still dangerous enough to cut you and give you a nasty infection.“Stop! Stop this nonsense!” I yell, decently fearful, as I feel a close friendship with Mr. Barlow. Even with his annoying old man tendencies. I don’t want to see hi
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