The hand was beautiful, with slender fingers and distinctly articulated knuckles. Light cast dim, indistinct shadows upon it, exuding an inexplicable air of alarm.
Becca Reyes still stood at the door, for some unknown reason, feeling a bit anxious.
At the same time, Neal Thompson subconsciously tried to pull away, but no matter how much force she exerted, the hand that casually held onto the belt didn't budge at all.
"Flossie Wright, if you don't let go, believe it or not, I will make sure you can't stay in the cooking class!"
Neal Thompson shouted harshly, with a sense of heartbreaking determination.
Using the volume of voice to demonstrate one's dominance is a common method, and Neal Thompson was clearly the epitome of this. After all, even women quarrelling on Main Street tend to be deafening.
However, Becca Reyes increasingly felt sorry for her.
Picking a fight with Flossie Wright was clearly not a wise choice.
