Hey you. This is part two of that story I started. (Oh why did I do this to myself?)
The midwife yelled at Rose again, “Push like you mean it! Ya mwisho!” But Rose did not feel like pushing anymore. She was tired. Exhausted. And sweaty!
A few weeks after my twelfth birthday we started hearing news about break-ins. There was a burglar at large.
Ella arrived just before midnight, dressed in black and gold.
“Red is a lovely colour on you,” she said.
Sarah smiled and pursed her lips. She looked in the mirror and admired her new look.