Merlize wanted to reach Larson, but she retracted her hand as soon as she raised it. Swirling her spoon on the mashed potato lathered in caramel sauce, a lot of questions poked her mind. “Is he angry? What did I do?”
“Hey, you’ve been poking at your food for a while now. What’s the matter?” Larson called her attention.
“Uhh.” She let go of her spoon and left the table. “I… I have to poo. Excuse me.”
Larson grabbed her wrist, but she broke out of his hold with little effort. The rest of the group remained in their seats, focusing themselves on their potatoes.
The tribal girl rushed to the driest place of all T’khamun, away from the civilization. The wind swept away her tears. Her finger pointed at the sand and drew infinite circles until she formed Larson’s face. It’s similar to a child’s drawing.
The oracle’s words popped into her mind. “I haven’t had much experience with men, but sometimes you have to take the initiative. Make him see and realize your worth.”