My Groom Smashed My Face Into The Cake As A Joke Until My Brother Stepped In

have the notebook I was writing in when I met him. I found it a few years ago in a box in the back of the closet. The writing is the private, unedited kind, the thoughts of a twenty-six-year-old who was competent at a job she was not passionate about and using thirty minutes a day to hear herself think. I read a few pages and put it back.

There is nothing continue reading …