Ha! Thuy. The petite, motherly, in some ways non-descript woman, with her pigment anomaly, which gave her freckles and silver eyelashes. When we stepped outside, I lit a ciggie, nudged Charlie with my elbow and grinned at him with my chin up in the air:
“Well?! Everything alright?”
He grinned back like a Cheshire cat, gave me a thumbs-up, and told me he was feeling great. Mira smiled when they said goodbye, but there was no talk that Charlie would drive her home. On the way back, I suggested to soon meet for coffee to talk about her blues, but she only shrugged shoulders and said:
“There’s nothing to talk about…”
It wasn’t far to our English center, where she lived, and during those few minutes I couldn’t think of anything uplifting to say, apart from that I and, apparently, Hanh loved her clit.
Mira laughed, sounding relieved: “Yeah, true. But now I gotta find a way to learn Vietnamese.”