Groceries

I huffed out and noticed that I was bathed in flour. The floor dropped on my lashes and poured inside my clothes.

The door of the sports car opened, a tall guy stepped out wearing a pair of black jeans and an expensive red sleeveless shirt. His hair was well-gelled. His lips were as red as rose, his cheeks smooth and his eyes wide like a cat's eyes.

He stormed out of his car, slammed the door, started to me and glared tightly at me.

"Hey miss, will you get up and move out of my way? I've got somewhere to be." He shouted.

How rude, what a jerk! Did he not notice that I am covered in flour and that he nearly run me over? I thought and I furiously sprang to my feet.

"Excuse me, you just nearly run me over and you're not sorry?" I yelled.

"Well, I don't have time for that. By the way, I was driving on the right track, and you...why were you walking in the middle of the road and if your stuffs were so important, you would have stayed on the sidewalk. Or what do you think of yourself? The Pr