C217 The French Interpreter

Xia Shirann glanced out through the clear glass window, then stretched lazily, ready to leave. Just as she rose from the table, a middle-aged man, busy on his phone and holding a glass of iced orange juice, hurried past. Whether it was Shirann being a bit distracted or the man moving too quickly, they collided perfectly.

"What the heck!" the man blurted out in frustration.

Shirann was startled