
Clutching my pink purse with both hands, I sat gracefully at one end of the eatery, my eyes dancing to the doorway at every pull and push. Shortly, heads started to rivet towards a swarthy, tall figure snaking swiftly to my table. It was Tunde. I felt righteous pride scooting up my cheeks. His erect […]
from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2m3vXep
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