“Because,” I said, putting immense effort into keeping my voice perfectly level, “I am average. A single mom in her thirties, who is neither beautiful nor successful. There are thousands of women like me. Desperately trying to make ends meet, giving everything up for their children, and dreaming. Always dreaming, but never achieving.” I took a forceful breath and released it slowly. It still sounded pissed off. I vibrated with anger at that awful, cutting question that reminded me of all the things I didn’t like about myself. Bunny looked at me with those glimmering, thousand-year-old eyes,
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