El Chapo Sweater 소설 & 이야기

"We're leaving. Now." "Do you know this jerk?" Chad asked, standing and meeting me chest to chest. If he only fucking knew how pissed I was, he'd be running with his tail between his legs. I stood taller, dwarfing him by at least six inches. When I turned toward Charli, I couldn't believe my eyes. She wasn't wearing anything that I'd bought. Under my grip was some cheap gold jewelry that looked like a snake twisted around her forearm. Her eyelids sparkled. She was made up like some kind of eighties' throwback punk-rocker.

“Uncle Jake is dead,” I rasped. “And probably Uncle Billy and Uncle Horace, too.” My tears soaked into his sweater. It felt soft against my cheek. Cashmere? Why the fuck am I worried about what his sweater is made out of right now?! I berated myself. Still, there was something comforting about it, like a nice, warm security blanket. Or maybe it was the man in the sweater. He smelled like days spent lying out by the pool and nights drinking fine cognac. There was just something very solid and relaxed about him.

I breathe slowly and stand upright. "Don't worry, Charles, we're past that part." I smile at him, but I don't extend my hand. How small is the world. A typical phrase for an unusual moment. He was sure to see that dark”haired Spaniard with murderous and captivating eyes again. His lips are just as I remember them; the lower one a little wider than the upper one, a very pale pink color that makes me want to get hold of them. He scrutinizes my eyes. Although my cleavage is available for all to see, he only focuses on them. I don't look away. He is wearing a red Chinese shirt and black fine”cloth trousers. He is not wearing a tie, as he does not need it. It is to be eaten. He has a thin chin. H

Charlie nodded slightly and said, “I have some big business that I want to discuss with your boss. You can call him to ask him to come over. I’ll wait for him here.” Colin frowned and said cautiously, “Bro, I can’t notify my boss if you don’t reveal your identity. Our boss is at least ranked amongst the top ten crime syndicates bosses in Mexico. You would have to have a rather powerful identity if you want to get him to come and see you.” Charlie smiled disdainfully and then quietly broke the cable tie on his wrists. Immediately afterward, he put his hand into his pocket very calmly and took out a black gold card which was limited to only dozens of copies in the world, and only a few had bee

It appeared he truly had sacrificed his sleep for the weaving. "I wove a sweater for your journey... I wasn't certain of your exact frame, so I made the pattern a bit generous..." Collins said, his voice a soft murmur as he handed me a heavy paper bag. I lowered my gaze, took the bag from him, and pulled out the wool. It was a cream-colored garment made from thick, unrefined yarn. It felt substantial and heavy in my hands—a true winter shield. It felt as though it held the warmth of a hearth fire.

Chester responded, “Spare me some dignity, Xavi. I’m not a child anymore. I start middle school in September. I’m officially a teen!” “A minor is a child. You don’t need dignity. “If anyone mocks you for wearing an ugly sweater, just say that family made you one. Ask your friends if they have a sweater knitted by family. “I bet they will only be jealous of you. Once I get the hang of knitting, I can make you another to make it up to you.” As if. Xavier would just buy Chester one. Even if he did pick up knitting, his handmade sweaters were only reserved for Callia.

“Get the chaps and the cowboy hat.” “Yes, ma’am.” He rifled through a rack of fringed, suede chaps, looking for his size. Tall. “Oh, and the vampire cape and the baseball player and the camouflage with the dog tags.” She paused and looked up. “And the rock star leather.”

“Ugh, who cares.” I walked back to my bed and slipped out of my bloodied shirt and pulled a baggy sweatshirt over my head. It was old and faded. One of my favorites. It had rainbow tie-dye and words CANCUN Mexico barely visible across the front. That was a lifetime ago and though the memories made me sad, this old sweater was like the hug I needed. “Mmm, comfy,” I mumbled. Biscuit looked up at me and whined. He deserved better. I carefully smooshed his drooly face in my hands and he sniffed at my bloody sock.

This had to be Yuyu Roman. I grabbed the tacky sweater I'd bought a couple of days earlier—a red and green monstrosity with a giant, flashing reindeer nose in the middle—and yanked it over my head. Ugly fashion was sometimes good fashion, I justified. At least that's what I kept telling myself as I yanked on a pair of black pants that had fewer stitches than holes.

Charles said and I stared at him. "OK," I said and went upstairs. Charles' POV I sighed. I thought I had convinced her to stay back with the advantage of the weather but I was shocked when I saw her coming downstairs. She now wore a fur sweater which stopped half ways her thighs. "What's this..?." "This sweater is going to prevent me from getting freezed out there like a chicken." "No.. You.." "I understand," she cut in. "You are worried that I might catch a cold then I will be bedridden and you will have to do all the cooking and cleaning in your condition..."