It was a disaster, as I had more or less expected. It was like asking a dog to fly. And yet again, I had to endure the incredulous stare and the patronizing smile that set one on cold fire. With his subconscious blasts of frustration directed towards my direction at my ineptness, I could only wish it ended earlier than it was supposed to. The gaze was unintentionally withering, although polite on the surface. I swore that the incident would not recur.
It rained at my funeral, although it would have been better if it had been pouring.
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