“Wow, this is crazy. I still can’t imagine how you can ever manage to afford this sneakers.” Misan quized.
Charles the witty one carefully withdrew the sneakers from his brothers’ prying eyes and poking fingers.
Charlie fondly called by friends actually stole from their father’s safe when he stood in for him at the store. The old man would not find out until later when he reconciles his account at the end of the week. He was unassuming but a firm and fierce salesman; the dependable supplier.
Misan the first of the sons was in his teens, sixteen to be precise. He was always deep in thought, he got that major gene from his grandfather who could read someone’s mind before he or she could signify any meaningful or meaningless intention. His thoughts actually converged on trying to crack how Charles came about the money for the expensive sneakers. Afterall, it was…
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