"Harold, what are we doing here?" I put my finger in the middle of my lips. We are in a public food court where street food vendors gather to sell.
"Don't be noisy," I said.
"Harold, you looked like my sister's stalker. If I hadn't stopped you earlier, I feel like the guy with her would have been beaten to pulp." He’s frowning as if he was scolding a 10-year-old kid. Well, If I were alone, that would probably happen cause I’m itching to beat that coackroach.
"Harold, can you tell me the truth. What is your relationship with my sister? Are you a fling or what?" What do you mean by fling? Your sister is my wife.
"But if you’re not a thing then you have no right to be jealous." He crossed his hand in front of me and leaned back to where we were sitting now. How old is he and he talk
