The Very Sad Thing

So, the Very Sad Thing, when driving up or down the interstate for summer travel, is stopping at various rest stops and seeing the little beat-up cars, stuffed full with some not-very-attractive woman’s belongings, everything crammed in to the roof, with just barely room for her to drive, and she sits there with her hair done and her make-up perfect but running down her face because she’s had it on for days because she met the guy she fell in love with on the internet a few days ago and found out he wasn’t really the man of her dreams and he wasn’t serious when he said he loved her and he doesn’t really want her to pick up her life and move to a new state just to be with him unless she has lots of money to support his lazy ass with and it wasn’t even his photo and he drinks and he doesn’t have a job or a place to live and he smells bad and now what is she supposed to do, now that she quit her job and told everyone that she had to follow her heart and now it turns out her heart led her astray?

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