Page 46 - SpontaneousSuccessFINAL6

NICHOLAS BOOTHMAN
“I like things as they are,” he replied, his tone firm but
weary. He looked around the near-empty room.
“I love this music too, Thomas,” I said. “But it's clear
those tourists expect something they can dance and party
to. They want excitement. This isn’t just about filling the
dance floor—it's about energizing the atmosphere.”
Suddenly, the front door swung open with a clang.
All eyes snapped towards the entrance as a tiny, apron-
clad figure exploded down the steps, her rubber boots
flapping out an angry rhythm.
“Tomaz!” she called, her slurring voice slicing
through a trumpet solo.
Thomas shook his head, his face a perfect blend of
‘oh no, here we go again’ and ‘I'm so sorry, please forgive
my crazy relative.’
“My beloved mother-in-law,” he said. “Speak of the
devil!”
As the tornado approached, she launched into a
rapid-fire torrent of words I didn't understand. Thomas
responded in kind, his tone a mix of irritation and
embarrassment. Their voices rose and fell, filled with
tension and emotion. The few patrons glanced at each
other, puzzled and uncomfortable; the trumpet solo now
a distant background to the unfolding drama.
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