Til Desk Do Us Part

Dear Brad,

Don’t you find it a bit strange for you to be writing me letters without addressing what happened between us a couple weeks ago? I really feel like it’s unhealthy to act like we never tied the knot. Sure, things have been awkward since our annulment, but I think we should take a step back to see how this all happened in the first place.

I remember it all started out with day drinking. You had a client to meet after so you wore a suit and tie. I had a house to haunt so I put on a lacy, white gown. Who knew it would end up like this –>?

It was a fun afternoon, from what I can recall. Food was plentiful and drinks were ever flowing. My memory is usually great, so I’m going to guess we were drugged. Or at least I was because why else would I marry a man-child? Look at my head in the picture, I can barely keep it up! That is clearly not someone who has her wits about her.

But you, you look oddly happy, as if you’ve finally tricked someone to settle down with you. As if you’ve slipped a ruby ring on me and made me happy because Chinese people love red things, even when incapacitated.

What I don’t get is why no one stopped us. We already broke one vow when you moved desks, how could we be trusted to stay together til death do us part? Why didn’t anybody object to us getting married?

Did an evil Trotta wizard cast a spell on everyone, one that would cause momentary glee and eventual “wasn’t that funny?” memories even if it resulted in thousands of dollars in lawyers fees and a horrifying morning discovery of me waking up with a blanket pulled over my head, knowing that at some point in the night you had dutch ovened me, or worse?

Out of sight out of mind,

Grace