Swaying back and forth, I nibbled my lip in anticipation while the Spainish bustled pass me, paying no acknowledgement to my godly presence.
"Handbags, handbags... Why won't anyone buy my handbags?"
Desperation had sunk in, gripping me tighter than layers of leather bags that were hanging on my shoulders. I crumbled at my bitten legs; my hands scraping across the cobblestone pavement as I collapsed in defeat.
My mumbling had stopped, but the pain in my heart was not so merciful.
A warm hand grabbed my shoulder.
I paused.
Does...
Does this person...
I quietly gasped and craned my head to look behind me.
Does this person want a handbag?!
No, don't be a fool. Since when has anyone wanted a handbag? Though, you can never be too sure.
I crawled back up onto my feet and spun around to face the person.
They were holding a handbag. One of my handbags.
A flutter of hope bloomed in my chest. Perhaps that day wouldn't have been so bad after all.
I gently smiled and clucked my head to the side, chewing my lip again until my whole mouth had gone lopsided.
"Excuse me, sir." I said, my voice quaking.
"Would you like a handbag?"
He stared at me with a blank look on his face.
Oh shit.
I have social anxiety, I can't do this-
A grin played on his lips, his smile growing by the second. Any larger, and no doubt that his cheeks would have ripped.
Low growls and chuckles resonated from his throat. It was subtle, but still audible.
I shuffled silently.
Sure, he didn't look menacing or vicious, but I had a deep feeling that he needed a second glance.
And before I even had the chance to say anything, the man ran.
He kept running and didn't stop.
I stood there without moving an inch, at a loss for words,or thoughts for that matter.
He's just gonna run off like that? How embarrassing. I tutted. What an idiot.
That's when I realised that I had been the most stupid one of all.
"My handbag!" I cried as everyone stared at me.
"My handbag!" I repeated.
"That man's stolen my handbag!"
I kept wailing, but nothing happened.
Inside my head, the same words kept echoing through my mind. Handbags. I love my handbags.
I hung my head and returned to business. I slipped off the hook of handbags and sprawled them across the floor. One, two...
I counted them all, tapping their leather rim as I went along.
Fifteen. I left my cardboard home with forty eight. That's right, I'm fucking homeless.
I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, shaking voilently.
"Excuse me, sir!" Two footsteps appeared in front of my eyes.
I unknowingly rolled my eyes.
"Sir, are you having a spasm attack?"
I swiveled round and realised that he had run away before I could catch him, another pair of handbags missing from my stash.
That bastard... He was going to get a reality check if he though that he could just take one of my handbags and run off like that. Who cares about kindness any more?
Time to buy some self respect. Sadly, I'm broke and live in a box.
I slipped my handbags onto my shoulder again, my eyes rolling up at the feeling of the handbags. Fuck yes.
To be continued...
———————————————
Hola amigos.
It is I, the real handbag lord- no, not one of those fan girls that fake to be me.
As I am in need of money, I hope that you can donate it to the land of the Spain where you'll meet my Spain people.
If my unfortunate, saddening tale can finally make it to Netflix, I may be able to afford to buy myself a crate instead of a cardboard box!
Based on a true story.
