Understanding Grandmother
I commute to work by bus.
Once, there was this old granny who was so fussy the minute she stepped into the bus. She came in, asked a young girl to stand up so she could sit there. The seat was a front seat.
We both got off at the same bus station. She walked past me, and queued the next bus up front. She didn't want anybody to stand in front of her, let the bus conductor to go into the bus first, or let anybody to even touch her for that matter. When the bus finally came, she sat on her favourite front seat. I was behind her, and I stood next to her seat (I didn't lean on her, nor did I touch her).
She kicked my feet (I was standing, you, old woman). She couldn't stop kicking and moving, saying "It's so cramped here" from time to time. Then, everybody slowly moved away from her.
I commute to work by bus.
Once, there was this old granny who was so fussy the minute she stepped into the bus. She came in, asked a young girl to stand up so she could sit there. The seat was a front seat.
We both got off at the same bus station. She walked past me, and queued the next bus up front. She didn't want anybody to stand in front of her, let the bus conductor to go into the bus first, or let anybody to even touch her for that matter. When the bus finally came, she sat on her favourite front seat. I was behind her, and I stood next to her seat (I didn't lean on her, nor did I touch her).
She kicked my feet (I was standing, you, old woman). She couldn't stop kicking and moving, saying "It's so cramped here" from time to time. Then, everybody slowly moved away from her.
Do you fancy hearing a horror story, old woman?
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