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Besides Emma’s continuous alarms and Mary Ella’s bird alarm, the rain woke me up. Emma and I feasted on butter and toast.
Full of beans and eggs, my group blasted to the British Library.
We devoured every single book and the Magna Carta.
I stole pictures of The Beatles.
Owen and I confronted all the British students and old wanders observing the artifacts.
Mr. Morrison located me a meat pie.
The Hotel ripped out my heart because the microwave was “clients only.”
The Holy Lord blessed my tummy with a Chicken and Leak Meat Pie.
I adored her, my meat pie.
Lelia’s grandparents, the Egyptian mummies, posed for our Instagram posts.
I licked a veggie burger because it could never live up to her, my meat pie.
I cried, more.
Finally, I stretched my legs.
I want to master my split.