Being a hand model isn't something you grow up wanting to be.
I never went up to a guidance counselor and said "I want to grow up and have people take pictures of my hands." I just fell into it, you know?
And then I met this girl. Her name was Megan. Megan Soandso.
She was married, but no distance could tear us apart, and that's to say nothing of some bullshit societal contract.
I met the guy at a modeling shot. Look, I don't need to get into the nitty-gritty, but we were making out on the asshole's grave before the Priest had finished the Eulogy.
Sic Semper Shitheads.
We've been together ever since, and I've never been happier. Soon I'll get a picture of my Perfect Hand wearing our wedding ring, I just know it.
Until then, the manicures are good, and fate's dealt me a good...hand.
