As I watched Eric’s red Toyota Camry pull out of my parents’ driveway, my heart soared with spiritual inspiration. It was the third time that Eric had driven me home from the music studio where we were both taking lessons.
I couldn’t focus. My thoughts were zoned in on how much prettier she was than me. So much taller, more put together, her hair more perfect, her clothes more elegant, her manner reserved and poised. I momentarily took an inventory of myself. Bouncy, out-of-control curls, old comfy jeans, layered sweaters, and chunky handmade hemp jewelry.