crisis of confidence.

 "She's just my type", he enthused, "know what i mean? She's tiny, petite, foreign... She has that look.. you know that look that is just my type..." His eyes were wide, his hands gesturing even wider as he spoke. "She just does it for me.. her style, her skin, that sexy little foreign accent.. man she is just my type!"

She listened quietly, feeling the circle of her wedding ring cutting like unworked iron. She watched the sparkle in his eye and looked at her reflection in the window of the parked car behind him.

She saw her pale freckled skin. She saw her average New England girl features and her sunglass-hidden eyes. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that slid over her shoulder. She looked down at the skate shoes on her feet, listened closely to her own smooth North American vowels softened with an ever so slight lisp. And despaired.

Reviews

[Nobody.]

part of me agrees with Mr.Hart on this one. my mind just blurts, "what a dick!" lol!
but the other part of me aches for the girl, and understands the trapped feeling...and the bout with self esteem she's feeling.

damn good writing Jennie.

seriously,

feeling it.

[Coyote Poetry]

Wonderful use of words and thoughts in the chapter. I loved the description of her. Thank you Jennie for sharing the amazing chapter.
Coyote

[Ed Hart]

the thing is, when a jerk announces himself, it should be a cause for immediate joy...not another instant of this precious life will have to be wasted learning this lesson...despair, no; we're talking revelation and resurrection here