Dear Mae, I still remember the morning after. We had just left a wedding, somewhere north of the outer reaches of Toronto, and before driving home we stopped at Tim Horton’s—the most Canadian place on earth. It was Sunday morning and Timmy’s was packed. The line snaked around the tiny seating area and most people (myself included) looked like they had just rolled out of bed. But, not you... People whispered to each other, looking over at us furtively, as we walked through the double doors. You wore a bright red dress, the kind that you might see at a bachelorette party or at a night club. It was tight-fitting and adorned with lacy detailing across the bottom and top. Your stiletto pumps tick-tocked across the floor as you sashayed through the mass of people waiting in line. A family exchanged a silent look as if to say, “I can’t believe she’s wearing that …” But, you didn't care what anyone else was doing or think...
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