EIGHTY-FIVE
We arrived early, so we both took a seat in the back of the church to watch the wedding. All the family seemed to be the groom's and there were no bridesmaids – just a grumpy little flower girl, dressed up like a doll-sized version of her mother. I envied the bride her beauty and her breasts, her happiness and her loving husband.
"Those boobs are huge. I bet he can't wait to get her out of her wedding dress," Jason whispered loudly.
I glared at him, but didn't say anything.
"Please rise to welcome Mr and Mrs Fisher!" the priest called out and I rose along with the Fishers' invited guests.
As the couple passed out of the church, her eyes met mine. Hers held sympathy for my sadness, as if she knew me and she shared similar pain. She inclined her head to me and I responded in
