My best friend nudged me as I was hunting through my salad for any stray olives that had snuck in.
“Check out the blonde by the Tiki-Taco stand!”
I looked up and glanced at the woman seemingly engrossed in whatever images were flashing across her phone’s screen.
“Eh, she’s a bit too overpretty.”
There was a pause, during which I found another olive.
“Yeah, you know, all that make up and work… It’s too much. I prefer natural looking girls.”
“Is that why you married me?” she asked.
I sensed a trap and didn’t reply.
That was a mistake.