Laura was so beautiful I almost went into a swoon. Perfect hair, teeth, and posture. Very toned body. Amazing eyes. Except there were these blotches on her face. Very colorful, I must say. I viewed them as genetic artistry; tiny artists working feverishly under her skin, mixing and matching colors.
When she coughed or sneezed little drops of color sprayed out of her mouth and onto my Old Navy shirt. People stared at us like we were performance artists.
Once, I got drunk and painted blotches on my skin. Laura was not amused. In the process of removing the paint I went into Turpentine overdose shock. Laura gave me a stern lecture in the hospital, but my mother hugged me. I'm not sure I'm compatible with a blotch challenged woman, as colorful as they are. At least warts are all pretty much the same color.
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