Citas
When you mean what you say and say exactly what you mean, there’s rarely a need to raise your voice. Yelling is a sign of desperation, an indication that you’re out of options, with nothing behind your back but volume.
Noblecky laughs. “Someone actually let you watch their kid?” He glances at the boy. “My condolences.”
Because the rumble of feet, like a stampede of rhinos, booms over our heads, cutting me off. Chelsea and I eye the ceiling—like it’s about to fall down on us—as the sound travels, getting closer.
And there’s screaming. The atom-splitting, banshees-from-hell kind of screaming.
“I’m gonna kill you!”
“I didn’t do it!”
“Get back here!”
“It wasn’t me!”
Even the two-year-old looks concerned.
And there’s screaming. The atom-splitting, banshees-from-hell kind of screaming.
“I’m gonna kill you!”
“I didn’t do it!”
“Get back here!”
“It wasn’t me!”
Even the two-year-old looks concerned.
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