I Was Never His Mistress
Language: en
It started with the color of my car. Back when it was wrapped in a soft, custom blush-pink, I was a target. Every morning on my commute, I was tailgated, brake-checked, and aggressively cut off. My husband told me I was a terrible driver. He told me I had a persecution complex. It wasn't until I surrendered, taking the car into the shop and having it painted a standard, invisible corporate black, that the road rage miraculously stopped. Until the day my car was nearly run off the highway and into a ditch. That was the day I found out someone had posted about me on a local community board.…