Brave
My cousin's kids are here. They're outside my bedroom door, yelling for me to let them in. I'm trying my best not to make any sounds, so they think I've died, or that I'm not here.
"I can smell your cigarettes!" That's Aisha, she's 7.
"You look like Brave." That's Jiji, she's 6. Or 5. I dunno, they're all the same age to me. Brat-year-olds.
"No, she doesn't."
"Yes, she does. They both don't brush their hair."
Meanwhile, I'm quietly building a white MTG deck, listening to their conversation through the door. They're probably seated on the floor, waiting patiently, because I'll have to open the door sometime.
"I can smell your cigarettes!" That's Aisha, she's 7.
"You look like Brave." That's Jiji, she's 6. Or 5. I dunno, they're all the same age to me. Brat-year-olds.
"No, she doesn't."
"Yes, she does. They both don't brush their hair."
Meanwhile, I'm quietly building a white MTG deck, listening to their conversation through the door. They're probably seated on the floor, waiting patiently, because I'll have to open the door sometime.

Comments
Post a Comment