” “Ever been married?” “Nope.” “Ever going to get married?” “I hope to.” She knocked the rest of her martini down and poured some mo...e. “Marriage is myth. Love, honor, and obey. Ha.” She said with venom. I realized she’d been drinking martinis, or something for a while. “I’ve been a perfect wife for that bastard for three years and how does he reward me? By having affair after affair.” I was a little surprised by that, but I was starting to get the picture. She was probably twenty-five or so. We trembled before her perfection – three old ladies, a skeletal teenager, and me. She didn't seem to notice us: it was as if we were viewing her own private ritual. I stood at the back of the class and stared unashamedly. The whole hour, I gazed at her, willing my miserable self to copy her effortless grace. I took in every detail, drinking her in. The stark bones at her collar and wrists, the arch of her spine, the firm, pink nipples that grazed her t-shirt. She barely spoke as she moved: her. More

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