Saturday, 25 September 2010

An Angry Dilettante

"Are you singing to yourself?"
The question stopped him dead in his tracks; he was mortified.
"Check yo ego, nigga!"
An inappropriate response, it occurred to him later. As they sang to him. Those absent and fond lassies. Golden hair. Sad combs. Wide eyes and white faces.

It was merely a toast frae the lassies, the ones who had strived so hard...
She don't like me

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