If My Arms Could Talk

As I sat on the bed, one arm outstretched in the grasp of the parlour¬†didi, I was having a common mental battle with myself.¬†"Don't be rude," I chided myself, "try and talk to her. Ask her something. Make a funny comment. Aren't people expected to talk to each other in the parlour? She isn't starting … Continue reading If My Arms Could Talk