Five Stars for My Funeral
Language: en
Ten years after our divorce, I ran into my ex-husband at a nightclub. He was the domineering CEO buying drinks for the entire venue to celebrate Rose's birthday. And I was the delivery driver bringing them condoms. The whole time, he pretended not to see me. Until I got down on my knees and begged, all for a five-star rating. Looking at my gaunt, skeletal face, he grabbed my chin and demanded coldly: "You'd rather deliver food than stay married to me?" "Mata, you're pathetic!" I didn't take it to heart. I just pointed at his phone. "Could you... give me a five-star rating?" Ten…