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458 Words
Thirty minutes had passed since the coach had left us. We had finished cleaning the room and had decided to go to Marc's to take our shower.
Along the way, we ended up chatting about passing the time.
“… So where were you that other morning ?
- I already answered you, I worked at Patty's.
- Even if you worked as you say, that did not always explain it. You were doing something else this morning, like everyone else.
- You can close it for two seconds and move around Gadget, my body is overheated, and it sticks.
- You're a big pain in the ass, I would eventually find out where you get into every morning.
- Yeah, that's it, I gave him an arched eyebrow and a smirk.
- By the way, you've already found another job, he asks me with a little more seriousness.
- I'm still looking for. It's not that easy to find one.
- I hope you find some.
Then suddenly, Marc stopped in front of a window. He seemed to cut off from the world.
I walked up to him, looked at him, looked at the window. But I couldn't understand anything.
Why was he ecstatic in front of a chocolate display case ?
- I'm still hot, it's crazy how beautiful I am ! I understand why Charlotte doesn't want to drop out.
- Marc, the conceited man is back, I whispered, shaking my head ... But it's true that with your blond hair, your Caucasian complexion and your dancer's body ... You can make a career as a model. I finished, stifling a laugh.
- But what are you talking about, he laughed offended, you know very well that I don't like these guys, you speak, but you are like me ... Look, apart from your black hair and your swarthy complexion, we are the same. Even you have the same body as me.
I finally let out a laugh and hit the road.
- You come, we get the hell out ! Otherwise, we will end like ice cubes.
- It's true that our mannequin bodies must not be damaged, he added, bursting into laughter.
When I finished dressing in clothes that I had left at Marc's - because I sometimes got into his house - I went downstairs to wait for him in the kitchen.
Marc had the habit of using perfume, chains, rings and all the hoopla. I was content with a t-shirt and black pants.
I was sitting in the kitchen manipulating my phone when Mr. Wind, Marc's father, walked past me.
He still wore the same hostile gaze towards me. And he was quite right after what I had done to him.
- Writer
