Grey temper

[franceslievens]

Upon arrival Frances doesn't like the place where she's staying. She doesn't like the weather and the numerous tourists with their dogs on leashes and crying children. It's grey, it's windy, and it's cold. Frances' temper, not yet cooled down from what preceded this adventure in holidaying, is about as dark as the sky overhead. This will never go right. There's grumbling from her part – it sounds about as nice as the leashed dog's barking. "I didn't want to come here," she says, "It's all your your your fault!" It might be, but when walking the tourists disappear, and the jacket keeps wind and rain out. If only her hair wouldn't fling in her face like that, this might be a nice little trip to forget the world for a bit. But the girl will never be satisfied, will she?