Accents cling to me.
I don’t invite them in. It just happens, every time I move and anytime I constantly hear a specific regional dialect.
Chameleons change color. Tigers stalk prey in striped fur to match their dark jungle habitat.
Speech becomes my camouflage.
As I adjust to living here, I’ve caught myself falling into a Southern dialect when I’m talking. Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t mind having a Kentucky accent.
I’m just never consistent.
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