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32. The One Where We Talk

I heard the ring, and quickly, I ran and opened the door. Grinning, I let him enter and snatched the polythene from his hands.

Blue lays.

I hated blue lays.

"What the hell it is?" I demanded, closed the door shut. "You know I hate spicy."

"I know." He placed the Mojito on the table. "They were out of all other flavors."

"But I hate it," I whined. "Really hate it."

He looked at me for a couple of seconds before asking, "Want to go to grocery shopping? I'm already out of stuff, and we can buy things which you like."

"Chocolate cupcake?"

He grabbed his wallet from the back of his pocket, checked through it and I could see a frown coming, but he shook it off and smiled, "Yes, that too. And Nutella box as well. Come. But you need to guide me. I always get confused."

I killed the urge to point out that I myself had never done grocery shopping and it was the first time for me.

"But we go in my car."

"Fine, but I'm driving." Before I could argue, he ran and stole the keys from the key stand. I
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