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“How come this gorgeous tigress is so strong when she is a woman. This body of mine is so weak that I think a single gust of wind would cause me to fly miles away from this place.” Angelo thought as he touched the wrist that Mark’s mother had gripped tightly. Angelo inwardly cried, seeing the wrist- that was as thin as bamboo to have a scary red handprint.

“Why did you suddenly grab me?” Angelo inquired as he massaged his wrist.

“Well, it’s because you’re in the wrong direction of your room.” Mark’s mother informed.

Angelo looked left and right, trying to see if he was indeed in the wrong direction of his glimmering, dashing pink room. He then looked at the door- to make sure that it was the right door; that would lead him to the horrifyingly pink room.

“I think you are mistaken, mom,” Angelo said when he was sure that he was in the right direction of his room. “Then, I’ll head inside.”

But before Angelo could open the door of his room, he sud