xiv

He was currently leaning over the counter, staring at us in his mid-dim kitchen while we sat at a table which looks as old as him.

Fayette whispered, “Creepy, huh?”

I looked at the wrinkled man, “Do you even talk bro?”

Honestly, I had no idea where that came from; I usually never talk like that and for some reason that felt foreign to me. Something in his demeanor changed as if what I said hurt him. His lip curled up and I could have sworn he had hissed at me.

He smirked, “Child, you will address me as a superior. I'm not this bro that you seek.”

I folded my hands on the table like a scolded kid, “Yes sir.”

He shuffled his tiny old body around the kitchen, pouring some tea as he placed the cups on a tray.

He set the tray on the table, “Drink up, its mango.” He said sitting down next to me.

I cringed because I hated mango but I took it anyway, “Thank you.” I took it and sip