He’s also the kind of guy who doesn’t notice things.
Ashley is twenty-seven. She works in marketing for a cosmetics company. She’s beautiful in that perfectly polished way. Long blond hair, always blown out. Perfect nails. Perfect teeth. She has twelve thousand followers on Instagram, and every single post looks like it came out of a magazine.
The first time I met her, at a family barbecue, she brought a bag of chips.
One bag. Store brand. Half-empty.
“I had a few on the drive over,” she said, laughing. “Hope that’s okay.”
Grandma had made three pies. Peach, apple, and lemon meringue. Ashley ate two slices of each. Then she asked if she could take the rest of the lemon meringue home.
Ezoic
“Of course, honey,” Grandma said, already wrapping it up.
I watched Ashley put that pie in her car. Then I watched her go back in for the leftover potato salad too.
