𝔳. clinically confirmed asshole

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𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢

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𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶
𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔡
𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢

𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢

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               "WELL, THAT'S AMERICA for you

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"WELL, THAT'S AMERICA for you..." Wilbur commented, a smile rising to his face when their eyes clapped upon the mammoth-sized Star-Spangled Banner, spanning across the ceiling of the airport.

In Vera's opinion, New York so far (or at least JFK Airport) was seemingly the strangest and most terrifying place on earth. That was taking into account that Vera and Wilbur had only officially been inside the country for an hour. Experiencing American border control was one hell of a nightmare, putting it lightly.

She couldn't believe what was written on the stupid form she had to fill in, and a part of her thought that she was hallucinating after only gaining two hours of sleep in the past twenty-four hours. One of the questions on the form even asked if she was either a Nazi ━ from that, Vera concluded that someone had to be a pretty stupid Nazi to answer yes to that question. Then it came to facing the grumpy old lady at the desk, who Vera was quick to make an enemy out of when she dropped her passport and couldn't pick it off of the floor for a good ten seconds. As the lady mumbled something about how annoying British people were, Vera was quick to reunite with Wilbur and collect their luggage. There, they were greeted by a man in his mid-forties who was so adamant on insisting that their suitcases were his and practically had to wrestle them off of the poor bloke. It turned out that this man was in fact, blind.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋,     jschlattWhere stories live. Discover now