My sister sold me on “nice.”
Russ had done some electrical work for her hair salon, and she thought of me. He was single, handsome, intelligent, and above all, “a really nice guy.”
After a five-year run with a bad boy type, I finally released myself from destructiverelationships that made me feel racy. “Nice” sounded calm. “Nice” sounded like a future — one without doors slamming, threats being issued, and tires peeling away….
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