Mangled Shoes

In Deborah's class there was a blonde, brown-eyed, and Caucasian acquaintance. He was very funny. They skipped Afrikaans class on a bright day and sat on the hockey field to watch the sunrise.

As the temperature rose, Dylan began to feel thirsty. He suggested they go to the staff bathroom and get some ice water. Since students couldn't enter the staff room, he had devised a "plan" in which they would go there, approach a cleaner, and claim their register teacher had sent them.

After getting their water bottles filled, they would spend the remainder of the morning lying on the field and giggling at how they had gotten away with that minor fib.  Dylan and Deborah would next proceed to their English class. They would never be able to skip Mrs. Englebrecht's class and get away with it. She did have a squeaky, unpleasant voice, and it seemed like her classes went on all day. Perhaps as a result of her extreme seriousness.

"Class, your homework for today is to complete pages 153 to 182 in your English textbook for all courses." If your homework isn't finished, remember to go to detention on Friday.

"Are there any more questions?" Nobody had any questions because she had explained everything in a way that everyone could understand, so they all nodded in agreement.

"Very well, then, I'll be going to the staff room for a meeting." "Before you leave the classroom, place your chairs on the table.Deborah couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Engelbrecht changed the color of her glasses every day. 

What a fascinating woman, she reflected. She exited the classroom with her friend Dylan, putting her chair on the desk. She had described her experiences to him. His remark was succinct and uncomplicated."This is better because nothing in the world is permanent," You hear me? It gets better. (In this world, nothing is permanent.)That was sufficient to calm her thoughts.They made their way to the gate and left the school's grounds.

They noticed their parents waiting for them in the school's parking lots as they neared the gate and left the building. Deborah hurriedly changed when she came home later that day.

She hurriedly left the house in order to meet Mohammad, who she had been longing to see all day. After passing the roundabout and turning left into Virgo Street, she came to a cul-de-sac that was close to the apartments where Mohammad resided. He was seen by her with another female. Amy was her name.

Deborah was older, less intelligent, and less charismatic than Amy, whose innocence Mohammad had stolen. Mohammad's mobile phone had previously displayed text messages to Deborah. When she initially questioned what was happening between them,he defended himself by saying that Amy requested suggestions on how to persuade a bothersome guy to quit bothering her. Deborah had believed him back then, but now she knew he had lied.

She approached him and gave him a slap.

Deborah thought Mohammad had treated her very disrespectfully because he was aware that she would be visiting that afternoon. He was aware that she was already remorseful for their activities in a sexual way. "Fuck you, Deborah," he screamed as he turned to face her revoltingly.

"Come on, Amy, get in."

They entered his Volkswagen Beetle in baby blue and sped off. Deborah lost all composure. She waits for Mohammad to return for the remainder of the day beside his gate. After an hour, he arrived to the entryway. He left his car parked and went to speak with Deborah. He apologized, then asked her to come into his room.

"Baby, you'll get sick because it's a little chilly outside." You know I adore you, so please come inside.

She would undoubtedly believe him because he would return for her. She believed that he actually did reside here. He made her a cup of hot chocolate and set it on the bedside as soon as they entered the house. In order to push her against the wall, he scooped her up, kissed her, and told her he loved her before slowly moving inside of her. He then swung out his junk and placed it beneath her legs.

He placed his elk back in his pants and ejaculated on a piece of toilet paper while saying, "I love you so much, Debbie, urhhhhhgh." You know how people prepare for people they love, he added as he entered the kitchen.

You are my snack, so I'm going to prepare you a meal.

He prepared some pancakes and hot cocoa to go with it on a non-stick pan.

Deborah chewed her food slowly before asking weakly.

What were you doing with that girl, Muhammad?

What else could I have been doing with that girl if she hadn't come to get DVDs, baby? She resembles a sibling. He responded, his voice still unshaken. Nearly as if he weren't lying.

Deborah was concerned that by asking too many questions, she would turn him away. She took pictures with Mohammad because she didn't want to share him and she needed to be sure of it. which she intended to make into postcards and possibly mail to Amy's home address. She delivered the images to the postman when she visited the post office later that evening, hoping he would deliver them to Amy's mailbox the next morning. She was aware that this would be problematic, but if Mohammad She was on the verge of changing her mind for a little moment before realizing that it wouldn't be a big concern if Amy and Mohammad weren't seeing one other.

The next morning, when her father mowed the yard, Amy awoke to the sound of birds chirping and a faint scent of newly cut grass.

"Good day, Poppa! The lawn looks great! Have you read today's newspaper or the mail yet? I'm excited to see my horoscope, hehe.

Good morning, youngster. Get the mail for us, please. After I finish mowing the grass, we'll help your mother prepare breakfast together.

"I really hope you studied last night."

Amy enquired as she crossed the lawn to the mailbox in her front yard. She looked through the mail after opening the box. Searching for her own.

(Oh, mine.) Mommy's, Daddy's, Mommy's, Dada's, Mommy's

It's been a while, so I hope it's Mohammad.