Broken Pretty Things
By Grant Faulkner
Sabrina hates the word snatch. She hates that she has to shave her legs. She hates that her sister keeps asking her “when she’s goin’ to find a man and start poppin’ ‘em out.” She hates that no one from her high school in Cincinnati knows how cool she is now. She hates that modern science hasn’t developed a hangover pill, or if they have, the government won’t legalize it. She hates men who chat her up but are too chickenshit to ask her for her phone number. She hates men who are too chickenshit to chat her up but then ask for her phone number. She hates the fact that no man at this party has talked to her all night. She hates all of the fucking money she spent on this dress.
Fuck all. Just fuck all, she thinks.