I WAS MAKING my way along the shallow puddles of water, side stepping each carefully, like an elaborate game of hopscotch. A gentle drizzle beat down on my forehead, warning me of the downpour that would soon grace our lawns and gardens, and, incidentally, bring a barrage of customers into my restaurant.
I smiled.
YOU ARE READING
Dinner for the Douchebag.
NouvellesMaya Patel was, as some would say, special. And she was. She possessed the ability to whip up succulent, spicy Indian dishes in a land where food that tasted bland was appreciated and commended. However, the locals used the term special to describe...
