'The lost city of Atlantis once existed', 'Aliens are walking among us'. 𝒁𝒂𝒓𝒂 believes in all. But Mafia in the 21st century is a MYTH.
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𝑮𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑨𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊, the underboss of the organized crime family Cosa Nostra, meets a kindergarten te...
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Monday morning, I hastily grabbed my water bottle and lunch bag. Then cover the water bottle with a baby pink crotchet cover I had woven. So my honey bees don't see the lemon slices and cucumber wedges I had added to make it detox water. I had learned the trick a month ago. It increased my water intake, so I take the bottle to school as well.
On the very first day I did that, Blake giggled and shouted, "Miss Honey, has salad in her water bottle." And the other kids also joined him. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. It was high school again with miniature bullies. Who did not have any bad intention to hurt me. I had let out an embarrassed laugh. If you can't beat them, join them.
I locked the door to my house, breathing in the freshly bloomed roses on either side. I crossed the narrow pavement, the empty space right in front of my house was covered in wild weeds. One day last year when I noticed most of the people in my neighbourhood were out for a holiday, I jumped across the iron barrier and planted redbud trees. They are yet to bloom flowers. But long enough to cover up so I can sit on a chair in front of my house and sip in my tea, with no passerby eyeing me as they cover the direct view of my house, exactly how I wanted it to be.
I balance my bags on either side of my shoulder and walk to the school. It's a well less than a mile distance from my house. Taylor Swift's folklore played on my AirPods. I walk with a smile on my face as I watched people in my neighbourhood get in gear for their work. Mrs Smile gave a wide grin to Mr Smile. They look like a couple in their early 30's, I don't think they have kids. They always have a smile on their faces, so I call them that. I turn my gaze from them so they don't feel like I'm spying on them. People may not be as friendly as I had back in Canada. But this is far better than the horror stories I had heard on the plane through a chatty woman sitting across.
Mr and Mrs Retirement came to my view. She is rather toxic, always shouting at Mr Retirement, who never fights back. Mrs Retirement stays on the porch while Mr. goes out for his morning walk. This one time when I was running late, I found him trying to cross the road. I offered my help, but Mrs. shouted at me. I wonder if they have any kids to take care of them. I pang of guilt blooms on my chest at that thought. Turning the volume higher, I try to convince my mind not to let my mind wander off and stay focused on the song.
I rub the sleep off my eyes and walk further, tipping my nose up high. The past week had destroyed my sleeping pattern. Mrs Garcia did not show up on Monday or Tuesday. So since Wednesday, I have appointed myself as the boss. I stand in the foyer as the kids began to arrive and leave last after the last bell rings. No one else on the staff cares or sees that this is not good. I had almost convinced Helen to accompany me to the police precinct since Mrs. Garcia's phone was unreachable. We had planned to go after school, but then...
"Did you check the message?" Mr Powell asked snidely, crossing his arms over his chest, tapping his foot like his patience is running by. He is in his 50s with 7 permanent lines on his forehead and wrinkles around his eyes. He doesn't like me, among other people. I shook my head and retrieve my phone.
