If this is a game, he's losing.
Time to play
She winked again and her eye was back to the warm brown. No more cat.
Charlie sat still, screamed inside of his head, smiled nervously, and didn't run.
As if there had been no yellow eye winking and nothing had happened, she again took her hand and raised it up slowly and pointed to the board of receipts.
"Prego," she said and the translation was clear: it was his turn. But his turn to do what?
"I don't understand," he stuttered.
"Prego," she said again as people do who don't realize that, no, you really don't understand, but they still often repeat it because they don't know what else to do or they're just stubborn and will keep saying what you don't understand in hopes that, at some point, you'll finally just get it.
He wanted to ask h
