Hell, some of the professors, middle-aged white males one and all, also hate her. I see the defiance in Adina’s eyes as she glares back at her haters, but I can also tell that it hurts her. That’s why I try to be there for Adina, for I know that even strong women struggle in this world. I have fallen in love with her, you see. For Adina, trust doesn’t come easily because of what she’s gone through. I had to be really patient with her. Fortunately, Adina could tell that I was sincere. The happiest day of my existence is the day Adina and I kissed. We were sitting inside the Flower Drum, a nice little Cantonese restaurant located at the heart of Melbourne. Clad in a red tank top, blue jeans and sneakers, Adina Djalu looked absolutely stunning. I looked okay myself in a long-sleeved blue T-shirt, traditional long black skirt and sky-blue Hijab. Adina and I sat across from each other, talking while eating some delicious Cantonese food. For a moment, I looked up and saw Adina Djalu. For the convenience of the reader I have clearly marked the divergence point, where the individual stories go their separate ways. If the reader has recently read ‘The Big Limousine Disappeared!’ then they may prefer to scroll to down and only read the latter part of the text. My sincere thanks go to Grisbuff and Davnel for their assistance in preparing these two little yarns for posting. It is not a particularly simple task for native speakers of American English to cope with my strictly colloquial British interpretation of the language The Climbing Tree! There is no sex in this story * Along with Sally and maybe a couple of hundred other people, I stood the instant the first bars of the wedding march thundered out of the church’s organ. For reasons of my own, I tried not to, but I could not stop myself turning my head and trying to snatch my first glimpse of the bride as she paraded down the aisle on her stepfather’s arm. Actually that’s not exactly true, it’s a misnomer, I wonder.
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