The Perfect Rebound
Language: en
My roommate, Sienna Moore, spent three weeks acting like she had captured the crown jewel of Manhattan’s elite. Every morning began with her insufferable commentary on his family’s private equity portfolio, and every night ended with her whispering into her phone as if she were auditioning for a reality show about trophy wives. Then his annual physical report dropped into our four-person dorm group chat. Six-foot-one. Two hundred and ninety-eight pounds. Sienna dumped him with the speed of someone dropping a hot coal. Ten bucks, she typed, dropping a screenshot of his medical chart right…