I remember one time around Christmas, I was waiting in line with a friend and about a thousand people crowded around us, and I started admiring this photo frame that resembled one I had bought my parents a few years ago.
I started excitedly recounting the story of the frame.
"Remember that time in high school, we were shopping for an anniversary gift for my parents, and I had picked out a frame that was very white and fancy, and you said it was more appropriate for a 25 year wedding, and I said that I didn't they would make it that long anyway, so we picked a different one, and then my parents got divorced?"
After the lady in front of us in line stopped laughing hysterically, I think mostly at the way I had told the story as if it were a story that I remembered fondly - and in some ways, I did, I stood there, with no real explanation, because how can you explain that kind of indifference?
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