She could almost be beautiful, mile marker 234. Halfway between indifference and the state border, I stumbled upon her allure. Unusually familiar, repulsively charming. Her simplicity hid an envious mistrust, the type that was secluded when I needed it most. Guaranteed to be forgotten, I couldn’t help but remember the first I’d seen of mile marker 234 and the many times I passed thereafter. Improbable conceit. It could have been her only blunder. A vanity so unique, it made her seem like the rest of us.
—Allie Randall