Her name was Debra, though, in all reality, she looked more like a Joe. She was middle aged, overweight, and not at all pretty. She was, however, getting married.
While most people are born with a tiny, invisible hand that covers the mouth right before something stupid is said, Debra did not have one of these. While discussing her photos, she kept insisting that her pictures must be perfect because, “It's not like we will ever get married again!"
I glance at her unkempt children lying on the ground and open my mouth to answer, “May I draw your attention to the four screaming children that resulted from your first marriage?” The tiny hand, thankfully, clamps down, cutting off my reply.
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