 ΒΌ of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pls
The United Kingdom. The place he, Enrique Brandon, had attented the school to. The very country that he had lived for seven long years. And he was back to here. To London. To live for who-knows how long this time. He hoped he could forget some certain people, and be happy. In this first foreign land he had set his foot on, 16 years ago.
Thus, half-full of confidence, Enrique Brandon stood in front of the office of his new director. He checked his clothes once again to be sure he looked not too neat, but enough. Seeing they were all fit, he took a deep breath, tried to change his thinking from Spanish to English, and knocked on the door. |