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My sister’ childhood friend, she visited often and made herself at home.I smiled and told that my sister was not home and would be away all day.Nigh...t looked across the road at the chowikdar (gate man) of the bungalow opposite (The guy was the area spy interested in everyone’s business).“Can I come in Mukhtar?” She asked.“Oh Yes” I said noticing the hard disapproving look the chowikdar gave me.No doubt, he would be gossiping with his friends about it all later.Nighet came in and I closed the. “Young lady, you must answer the question,” he said. “Uhmm… left, I think. Yeah, left,” she answered, her voice weak. “You honor!” Arthur barked, “I move that all charges against my client be dismissed, and this young woman, her father and her friend be charged with perjury.” The courtroom buzzed like a hive of hornets. The judge had to threaten to clear the court in order to restore. Becky looked shellshocked, her father and Sherry looked sick. Arthur was positively pontifical. “We’ve heard. ...I'm not feeling it. He hair isthe same length as mine, but hers always looks fuller. More alive. My isjust flat looking.Uh, maybe its my hair. It was like, just there. Still a little damp fromthe shower. Maybe if I comb it out and blow dry it, I can get it to lookfuller. Maybe if I get my hair looking more like how mom wears it thenmaybe I would look more like here. I got up and walked to my mom'sbathroom and found her dryer. Most days when it comes to my hair I justcomb it and it just lays. His voice cut the air, “look only at the mantle-shelf, and do not release your grip, or I shall add another stroke for each time you do so and we don’t want that do we?” through a vail of tears she grunted “no sir!” but prayed that she could be strong enough to stay the course. She focused on the clock, its little balls swinging to and fro, in its glass dome, regular and steady, its hands reading a quarter to five as the horrible secretary lifted her skirt folding it onto her back, cool air.
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