"Vhat vould oooo thaid?"
The people who'd boarded the vessel had put themselves in a (i)best function(i) order and two young people started to put aloe and gauze on the pilot's face and hair-gone head. It took maybe twenty seconds for the pilot's hands to raise and beat the air.
"I have the messages," a middle-aged mom patted a locked tummy pouch.
"We've not been allowed to report. And these boat passengers haven't been able to report position."
"I'm shocked." A man said sarcastically.
"You should see what people donate as AID," a woman explained as the man put scissors in his mouth, sinched his waist elastic, cut the extra and put that in the beach bag to disembark the vessel with Commanders only passing through.
Real sailors boarded.
"The jist?" Someone asked someone.
"The media called 'it' a cork in a tinderbox and an analyst tried to explain without explaining what a 'straight' means (i)geographically(i)."
"Of course."
The last of the daylight disappeared.
No comments:
Post a Comment