The Marisa Disclaimer
Excerpt from my bestselling collection of personal essays, A Paper Orchestra
Todd was incapable of leaving home without primping in the mirror for ten minutes. He rubbed styling gel into his hair, tried on this shirt with those pants, then admired his ass like a dog chasing its tail. For the final touch, he released the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing his gold Italian horn necklace. This, in turn, pointed downward to his …