OMERTÀ
I screamed, the ruse of my voice still hoaxed and cloaked with so much laughter as I tried running away from Fabri and his attempt to smear me with wet sand.
“It wouldn't hurt, natural skin care!” He yelled back, as he chased me down the beach. His roughly permed hair jingling in direct conjunction to the direction of the waves.
“Skin care?” I said, coming to an abrupt halt. Laughing at his “natural” joke. I was suddenly void of the fear of being smeared by Fabri's natural cosmetic, rather, I was to roped up in his attempt to crack a joke. It was a nice attempt and it had the best of me, because I'd further granted Fabri to smear my face with wet sand.
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