The Writer Fails to Communicate

By the time the flight was over, I was a gibbering wreck, and Scooter was in no better condition.

On the other hand, Raine was happy as a whistle; his face was placid and he even offered his hand when we were going down the steps.

Being an idiot, I refused and promptly fell on my face in front of all the passengers. Something mama used to say applied to it : “If you refuse goodwill, luck will sour.”

Everything mama said applies to something or another.

Right now, we were at the point where we were battling to get our luggage out of the clenches of the notorious airport employees.

“We’re here to stay,” I affirmed, looking at the woman behind the counter. “We need our luggage.”

She looked at me like I had grown an extra set of limbs. “No. No possible. Luggage stay here.”

I restrained the urge to pull my hair out of my head. “It’s very possible! Listen – “

“Let me handle this,” Raine whispered in my ear, making me jump. He turned the to the lady and did something that shocked me.

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