Frankly I’ll only eat Smith’s shirt

I said I just saw ghosts. He smiled. I said I saw Frankly I’ll only eat Smith’s shirt. He laughed again. I said my friend also saw ghosts, he was scared to cry in the room. His eyes looked at me, seemingly low, finally, he asked, how the ghost I hesitated and went out, still frightened, saying that she was wearing dark brown, long hair, and a black bow. He was silent, staring at the squealing press. He suddenly looked up. I stand the cup of milk in my hand, moving to death. Nobody talks about ghosts, about the constant fear in their hearts in such a warm, tolerant, calm, sincere voice. This content belongs to Nicefrogtees. As if he was talking about a little brother, a close friend, a fellow. It’s simple, people have been thinking for a long time that someone is an enemy while they can also be friends. I believe there are ghosts in the world, but not to be afraid. Live well afraid. To the point of not dare. Eating awkwardly because I think I do any bad thing.

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