EPISODE 8 : THE FESTIVAL

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Dressed in lavender bodycon, I arrived at the vineyard on time

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Dressed in lavender bodycon, I arrived at the vineyard on time. It was the location Mitch had sent me. I parked my poor Benz along with several expensive wheels at the side of an unmetalled road. All other cars looked branded. I felt misfit but I had to talk to Mitch one last time. I wasn't done with him yet - not that easily.

I ambled to the meadow, where the rich and burgers of the city were gathered. The tables were set scattered around. Exotic flowers were used to tastefully decorate the countryside field. Towards the west across the road, I could see an eternal stretch of grape horticulture. The east side was turned into a recreational leisure area.

I was invested in search of Mitch among the horde which consisted of old couples and mean-looking maidens. Yes, women were richly dressed looking bored.

"I suppose they are here of the mafia's son "I mumbled "But where is he ?"

"Who darling ?"Mariah approached me ."I'm glad you are here."

She took me in her arms and planted kisses on my cheeks.

"Thank you for having me here "

"No problem "she let out her light laughter "You know this festival is to commemorate the opening of Orient Winery. It's the 32nd anniversary ."

I shook my head once in a while and flashed a few smiles while Mariah was too indulged in lecturing. She did not even notice my eyes were roaming around looking for someone in the crowd.

"Where is Mitch -Marcus ?" I asked shamelessly, interrupting her monotonous speech.

"Well -he's probably with the horse ." she cracked up. Absolutely for no reason. What a peppy chirpy person! Unlike the progeny.

"Horses ?"

"There's a stable beside the barn " she pointed at the twin godown established a few yards away.

I excused myself and marched to the barn. The pointed heel kept on sinking in the grassy pasture. But I somehow managed to the stinking mushy barn. On entering musky stench of horse dung activated my olfactory senses. My nose wrinkled as I got in. Inside, I witnessed six horses and a man in a formal shirt and grey trousers. He was feeding a black horse at the end of the damp shelter. The clank-clank of my heels echoed but he did not pay heed to my presence.

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