153/365 Rose
They found Rose and me playing in my basement and marched us back to first-grade. We were ushered to the principal’s office by the infuriated meter of my mother’s high-heels smacking the hallway floor–echoed by Rose’s mother somewhere in the distance wailing in Italian.
3 Comments:
There are sure lots of Italians in your past!
clickety-clickety-clickety-click
oh, I can hear those heels as they furiously smack against the floor ... what a great description
so, have you always been a rebel?
I'm honestly not overly rebellious. Impetuous...well, perhaps!
:-D
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