Love Of My Life

I was at the ever-fantastic Wal-Mart a few days ago with my mother. I had just finished explaining to her what is, when she pointed to the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She was a 6-foot black woman, mid-forties, wearing platform red pleather boots, matching mini skirt and tube top, and the nappiest hair I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. My mom and I followed her from a safe distance, watching in awe as she swept entire shelves of products into her cart: soup, bread, diapers, spices; it didn’t matter. Finally, she reached the meat section, picked the store’s full trash can off the floor, put it in her cart, and marched toward the checkout.

That was the last time I ever saw what could have possibly the very love of my life.

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