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Lunch With The Player
**CAMILLA RENÉE**
FRIDAY
After more than a minute of mental breakdown supported with crying my eyes out in front of her, I paused and ended in short sobs.
“Don't you have class or something?”
I asked, reaching for some tissue.
“Could ask you the same? There's nothing wrong in being ten minutes late.”
She cackled.
What's humorous about any of this?
I gave her that look. The look that says if I'm crying, laughing is not on my list.
“Bad joke. I shouldn't try to make any given the circumstances.”
She smacked her forehead, dropping her hand as soon as it dawned on her. I've met someone who does the same thing as me.
The aura around Miranda was fascinating. She's moved from the point of a stranger to an acquaintance.
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