He did not even care to explain. It almost sounded as if he knew who it was.
Does he?
That is stupid to even reason of course he doesn't. How can he?
Do not think about it. I mutter, shaking my head when my thoughts were starting to divert to a certain direction and someone.
I take out a novel from my bag and started reading through the very much familiar printed writings that I can even recite word for word because of how many times I have read it.
I wasn't enjoying the beginning so I'm turning far into the middle pages to find a bookmarked one:
The page with the most spicy rated 18 content. I freakishly love it! That is why I always buy them. The owner of the bookstore I frequent gives me stern looks trying to intimidate me from going to the steamy aisles of books each time because he somehow knows that I am eighteen even though I got a fake ID to fool him.
I prove stubborn and ignore him because I so much love it.
