“This one makes my shoulders look like George Washington’s nose at Mount Rushmore.” I take off the pure-as-driven-snow tank and toss it on my bed.
“You’ve never even been to Mount Rushmore,” Tara says as she turns with a garment held up to her body. “This is the one.” She beams at me like so many stars, and I have to admit she’s finally found the gem we …
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