Patrick glanced at Stephan, stood up and carefully pitter-pattered toward him, paying particular attention to the sway of his hips. “What is it, Stephan? I’ve grown immensely weary of your demonstrations.” “Shush now, Patrick. This is extra ordinary. I have a conviction, I am convinced, I can assure you… this will blow your fucking socks off, Patrick.” “Oh good lord! Must you insist on populating your every last utterance with such excessive melodrama? Show me this little fancy of yours and let me get back to the cultivation of my hips.” Stephan flashed a knowing grin. “Okay, brace yourself now, Patrick. No need for the snark.” Patrick rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, momentarily losing his retinas. “Serves you right you haughty shit,” said Stephan as he gestured toward a prepared chair. “Sit! Sit!” Patrick sat with an emotive thud, testing the limits of the chair’s durability. Stephan scampered out of the room for a few seconds, which felt like hours to Patrick’s exasperated mind.
What do You think about A Million Versions Of Right?
