Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)
How Not To Crochet The Drop Stitch
I stood with my brother at the airport’s security gate. His dark brown eyes were locked onto my own. My flight would be loading soon. A very few moments loomed before us.
“I got here as soon as I received your text,” my brother said. “Thank God you are still here!” He embraced me.
“Even I don’t have wings,” I replied. “Must wait, as others, for flight.”
“We don’t know this man you are flying to be with,” said my brother.
“He doesn’t know you either.”
My brother shook his head. He seemed sad. “I’ve just always had this image of you writing poetry and crocheting christening gowns.”
“But I don’t know how to crochet!” I drew my eyes into thin lines and stared my brother down.
“That’s not the point,” he said.
“Oh. Okay. I don’t want to learn how to crochet.”
“You’ll be sorry for this!” my brother shouted as I made my way to the ticket counter.
“But I don’t want to learn how to crochet!” I called back to him.