“One lives next door to me now. He’s my age, he’s pretty nice.” “A boy.” She’s doubtful. She still thinks of me as fifteen years old, not twenty-five. “Oh, I don’t know about this, Ruthie.” “It’s completely fine. He’s the son of the owner.” “As long as this boy doesn’t come inside your place,”
Ummm... i don't think she should have said that 😂
