My Prince

My Prince - 8

Franczeska:

It's official. I'm already here in London, and I've been waiting for one and a half hour for Mrs. Johnson. I'm hungry and still sleepy. How I wish she'll ----

"Excuse me? Are you Franczeska Murray?"

Thank goodness she's here.

"Yes! Iam Franczeska Murray. Are you Mrs. Johnson?"

She really looks exhausted. But she tries to hide it by giving a warm smile. And then she answered, "Yes. Sorry if I'm late. Too many errands to make."

Without her telling that, you can think that she's really busy. She has this 5 paper bags and some of her things are bulging out of her bag. I wonder what her work is.

"No, it's fine. I understand." I said.

Then we went to her car. It's pink. And I hate pink as much as I hate brocolli. But, this is not the time to be so picky.

It took us almost 45 minutes before we arrived at their house. However, during on our way, I think I heard her sigh at least, like, 10 times. I think she has problems.

When we arrived, I was surprised. Their house is really big. And, there's a guy sleeping in the doorway. He's only wearing his jeans. I was quite surprised, and amazed. Amazed because he was able to survive the weather, and even slept outside without a shirt on. Ha!

Then Mrs. Johnson yelled, "Hey Charlie! What are you doing there?! Get up! Your house is on the other side!"

He's muttering something but I can't understand. He stood up, well, not really straight because I think he has this what we call hangover. He began walking towards us, then he looked at me. Or shall I say that, he stared at me and he put his hands on my shoulder.

He whispered, "I think I know you." I can still smell the reek of alcohol. Unconsciously, I covered my nose with my hand. I just can't take those kind of smell.

When I was about to answer, Mrs. Johnson shoved off that guy and he went away. Looking more stressed, Mrs. Johnson apologized for what happened. "It really happens a lot. It actually started when my daughter broke up with that bloke."

"Bloke? What bloke?" I asked. I think I have to learn some slang words.

She smiled and answered, "Oh, I'm sorry. It means that guy." She's already opening the door. Then we went in. It's really cozy. Everything's organized and I'm really impressed. I thought that my stay here will be, you know, comfortable. Until Mrs. Johnson said, "Is it okay to leave you here first? I just have to pick up my son." 

My eyes widened. "It's okay. Do you mind if I ask how old is he?"

She's arranging her things, and I'm also arranging my bags and luggage. And then she answered, "Oh, he's 9 years old. But don't worry. He's a very good boy." She smiled, like she don't mean it. And I smiled, like I mean it.

She showed me her daughter's room. And that's the room I'll use for months. 

"Is it ok?" I asked as I went inside and looked around the room.

Again, she's arranging something. I think she has this obsessive-compulsive disorder. Haha! I know I shouldn't think of her like that or judge. But the way she act, and look, she seems to have that.

"Actually, she's the one who told me that I'll let you use her room." She's done arranging that "something."

"How nice of her. It's really a nice room." It really is. She has these cute stuff toys. Honestly, everything's blue. Her bed, study table, chair. And I love blue, I think she also love it.