Desi Bhabi On Video Call

I am snapped out of my reverie by the buzzer. It’s the Shawarma delivery guy. I head downstairs, and see that it’s Khalid. A short, stocky, dark-skinned guy. He’s half Black and half Arab, and always complains about how they treat him at the Lebanese restaurant where he works. I always tell him that my job is always hiring and he always laughs it off. Whatever. I greet Khalid warmly because he’s a chill guy. He hands me the packet containing my food. The order printout says seventeen dollars. I pay, and give two dollars to Khalid because I know what it’s like to have a crappy job one does just to pay the bills. Khalid asks me how June is doing. Ah, Khalid, why did you have to go there? June is a tall, beautiful young Black woman I was dating for most of the summer of 2012. We met at the movie theater, and just clicked. She was half Haitian and half Trinidadian. We got along wonderfully in June and July, but our relationship changed in August. We began seeing less of each other, and. They reached the outskirts of San Angelo without more than a few sentences passing between them."GPS shows the turn coming up," Ed said, breaking the silence.Scott scrutinized the road ahead. "Bo said it was a gravel road, so we may not get much warning. Keep an eye out for those antennas he told us about." How many cops are going to be at this thing?" He said a couple hundred for the weekend, no idea about the earlier event." Scott pointed ahead. "There's a radio tower. This might be it." There's a sign," Ed said.A sign had been stapled to a stake opposite the turnoff. Scott checked his mirrors and signaled. He turned and gravel crunched under the wheels as dust flew behind the SUV."When was the last time you were on a gravel road?" Ed asked."Afghanistan didn't have many state highways." You don't talk about it," Ed said."Afghanistan?" Scott asked."Any of it, the war or the Marines. Were you scared?"Scott looked at Ed, but Ed was looking out the passenger side window."Sure, I was.
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