He was about to burst in annoyance but he held it well. "How I
address her is my business. Why does it matter to you. Anyway, you are
just a new comer."
"Well, because I am new, I want to know
that. It would help me to know how to address everybody here, including you."
The boy reacted with a slight glance on his eyes. "You didn't like it when I called your name."
Ah, so she noticed, the boy thought.
"But anyway, I want you to call me Lynn. Now, answer me." She moved closer, made them sat face-to-face, just separated by the bar between them.
"Well," that boy moved his eyes to another corner, avoiding the straight eyes from the young lady sitting in front of him. "It's because we are friend. She is not my grandmother, so there is no necessity to call her granny or something like that. I just call her owner."
"That's....an unusual way of thinking." That young lady managed to choose her words carefully.
"You mean weird, right? I get used to it." He raised his shoulders, tensed.
"Well, everybody has their own way of thinking, I guess. And...may I know how does she call you?"
"I just call him little boy," suddenly the old lady entered the cafe with two huge paper bags full of oranges, "Right, little boy?"
"Owner!" The boy dashed to the door and took the paper bags from her without being asked, and went to the kitchen.
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