There’s something about women in my town. So many of them look completely miserable no matter where they are or what they are doing. They have this look on their face that speaks of a lifetime of disappointment and failure. Also, they wear these deep, constant frowns. It’s like they’ve been so sad or angry for such a long stretch of their lives that their faces can’t even muster the strength to look neutral, let alone happy. It’s not everyone, but it’s enough to make it easily noticed.
When I was driving back from CVS yesterday, I looked in my rear view mirror while I was stopped at a light. There was a woman in a shiny SUV whose frown was so etched on her awful face that her mouth looked like it belonged on a nutcracker. She screwed a cigarette between her lips and flicked the lighter with painfully rapt tension. It was like the lighter was designed specifically to keep her from using it and she was struggling to get it to work. She was the epitome of my town. I really need to move out of here.
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