"What's is that you want?"
She looked across him. His white T-shirt were pressed such that the smoothness transported shrills through the spine of her senses. She was obsessed with whatever was neat. Who would love dirty things and would suffer the existence? Who would take delight in getting dirty? Who would feast on the cake if dirtiness and nurse protruding belly by it? She was skilled with handling her thoughts. Her father wasn't that much of that trait. She had no idea how her mother was in thoughts and soughts. She hadn't grown to know her. What exactly would a six years old kid remember about her mother at 17? That was not the right time to severe those thoughts.
She saw some guys hanging about the premises. She had no contention with that. How would she? She was simply stunned by the indifference of majority of them. She couldn't had brou
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