A Failure to Communicate
I could feel the hot baking sun reflecting off the white washed walls as I sat beneath the shade outside the little cantina. My mirrored sunglasses, scratched and tarnished lay on the table, angled so I could see the door to the interior in their reflection. My ex had always thought them very ‘passé’ but I had bought them with the first money I had earned from a paper round when I was just fifteen and even though they were worthless they were one of my most treasured possessions.The foot...
First Time