78. Greetings

“That was hella stressful,” Ostana blew out a deep breath, wiping the dry sweat from her forehead, and adjusting her blush pink wrap around her noodle strapped shoulders; her matching blush pink dress was long enough to kiss her white sandal covered feet, complimenting her silver pearl earrings and light make up. 

“Agreed,” I sighed, pulling the pin that held my curled blond hair up and as the strands fell, I let the stress escape myself. “Those women sure are fancy,”

“Oi! I would like a crispy tea cake please,” Ostana joked in a high pitched, awful, fake British accent, and carelessly gesturing her hands for emphasis while I began to laugh; my hands sitting atop my small baby bump as we continued to walk. “One lump or two, but no- not three!