The paintings Terrance created were photorealistic, real concept cars, hidden away in vaults near Detroit test tracks, unveiled once a year at auto shows through Terrance’s depictions.
Margaux had a science degree she was wasting bartending at Terrance’s favorite haunt. They wound up in bed, wound up engaged, and when they disintegrated as fast as they had ignited, she took the breasts Terrance bought her and took a job far away as a meteorologist at a Bible Belt television station.
Six months later, the station manager refused to believe the nudes he found of her on the internet weren’t photos.
This made me smile.