The Token Single Girl
As soon as I opened the car door, the wind hit my bare skin like a slap in the face. I hurried across the parking lot, wishing I had brought something other than flip-flops to wear after the wedding. Flip-flops don’t go well with forty-degree weather, and they really don’t go well with a black cocktail dress.
A young happy couple walked out of the grocery store, hand in hand. I glared at them. Other people’s happiness pisses me off.





