I got to the airport and saw Sylvie standing at the entrance. She was lithe and had a windbreaker draped over her. She also wore a pair of sunglasses and looked like a mature, sophisticated woman. She had a different air from her sister.
Her sister was the willful girlfriend, while Sylvie was the gentle, mature, and elegant lady.
I stood in my place in silence and waited until she noticed me. She came up to me and, in mock anger, chided, "You didn't call out to me even when you already saw me?"
I smiled. "I try not to call out to an angel out of the blue. People might think I'm a pervert."
"Someone has a glib tongue." Sylvie rolled her eyes. "Is that what you always say to my sister?"
"Stop comparing yourself to her." I turned and opened the car door. "Hop inside."
…
On our way back, she asked, "So you still can't let Sophie go?"
My eyes were on the road. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you seemed bothered when I brought her up."
I smiled. "You'd be upset too if someone brought up
