The Fiancée Farce

by Alexandria Bellefleur

She had to work twice as hard as everyone else for half the fucking credit, and she was used to it, and far from surprised, but God, she was sick to death of it. Sick of it all.

To not have that blueprint was probably just as hard. Harder, maybe. Craving something you didn’t have a name for, like living life in black and white until the day you realized there was a whole spectrum of color out there.