I stand rooted, a few feet from them. They do a bro fist as only fraternity boys do, and then walk out of the shop, chortling. As the bell tingles feebly behind them, I unfreeze and walk to the check-out.
Butter Run by Prakhar Gahlot
I stand rooted, a few feet from them. They do a bro fist as only fraternity boys do, and then walk out of the shop, chortling. As the bell tingles feebly behind them, I unfreeze and walk to the check-out.