Mr.Wrong
We could hear the sounds of doors slamming open, people running outside, alarmed by the unexpected attack of sky rockets.
And then, amidst all the chaos, there was Ms. Wilson. She was a seventy-year-old woman who lived next door, a strict lady with a sharp tongue who always had something to complain about. That night, however, she wasn’t complaining, she was screaming. She ran out of her house, wrapped in nothing but a towel, another towel secured around her head, wildly gesturing at her home as if she had just witnessed an alien invasion. I don’t know what exactly had happened inside, but given the way she was yelling, it was clear that at least one of our rogue rockets had found its way in
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