Sitting doing some Aramaic when something flutters into my face from the window. I jump up in a panic, flailing wildly and uttering mild expletives, spinning violently around to see what it is. My empty biscuit wrapper, blown off the windowsill by a breeze, floats smugly to the floor. As I sit back down, heart still pounding, it is not the adrenaline that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but the feeling of being betrayed by a dear friend.
Posted on: Tue, 28 Oct 2014 11:45:50 +0000