Until I Wrote Him
“And I told him I don’t date optical illusions.”
Maggie bursts into laughter. “You’re my hero.”
I find myself watching them all, these women who move through the world with such unapologetic ease, their confidence like silk, soft, luxurious, and impossible to ignore.
I wonder when I stopped allowing myself this kind of joy, the easy warmth of other women, laughter that doesn’t come with strings attached.
“Your turn, Kimberly,” Operah says.
Kimberly sighs dramatically. “Fine. I’ll confess. I’m dating a man who invented an app that tracks your mood, but he can’t tell when I’m upset.”