She’d been trying to reach a brand over email, about a refund that was supposed to have been processed DAYS ago.
She called, it went unanswered every time.
The final email she sent was colder than subzero polar temperatures. Precisely two minutes later, she got the money back.
Read the first part here.
Mia had recently gone vegan, and had promptly grown as an influencer.
Unfortunately, Shay had caught her eating bacon at breakfast the other day.
“Thought you were vegan.”
“I am, for the ‘Gram,” Mia smirked, posting a photo of her milkshake to her feed. “Hashtag Vegan. Shay, go like.”
“Mia, look I got you a vegan milkshake! It’s yum, I tried it the other day.”
“Ooh, thanks Shay!”
It would be the last time Mia ever spoke again. By the time the rat poison showed up on the autopsy results, Shay had already left town.
She uploaded a story. The caption said, “Working out,eating right, do we see results or nah?”
He responded, “Um, zero difference, still the same fat glob you used to be.”
Something broke inside her, she scooped out a huge chunk off her thigh with a meat knife.
They had a commuter marriage. Neither could afford to switch jobs.
On her birthday he stopped at a bar on his way to surprise her. A blonde offered to give him a lap dance.
Nothing could have prepared him for what followed: the blonde was his wife of six months.
Maya was thrilled when Mason took her on a ride one morning, even though he normally made his weekend trips alone.
They stopped at a white building. Mason led her into a room with steel tables and masked people.
“Fellas, more organs,” Mason said, shoving Maya towards a table.
Her whole life had been dedicated to the pursuit of ridiculously pricey trinkets.
The day she slipped and fell off the cliff while sightseeing, she had on some Manolo heels. A good pair of Nikes would have saved her life, but she’d always loved a rather vulgar display of wealth.
Ariel was six and lived with her single mum, Ursula, who used to leave for work early. Sometimes they’d miss their meals. Sleep was often inadequate.
Eventually, things started getting done around the house. On their own.
One morning she walked in on Ursula, multitasking, with tentacles.
She sighed as she used her credit card yet one more time.
She was seeing someone – she had to stay picture perfect.
Cursing her congenitally missing lashes, she paid a bomb at checkout. This was her life now, spending all her money on Lilly lashes.
She runs into her ex at the mall. She’s buying new luggage. It’s awkward but they say hi anyway.
“That’s some fancy stuff! Traveling somewhere?”
“We’re starting a travel blog!”
“So the workaholic finally got married to the house-plant, woo!”
He walks away, breaking her all over again.