“Driver, to the senior center!” Grandma declares, climbing into the car in her halter top, while Diana slides in beside her, sipping a frappuccino.
“You should see the bikini we picked out for her,” Diana says with a grin.
“I saw it,” you groan. “And now I need therapy.”
Grandma pats your arm. “Don’t be jealous, sweetie. Not everyone can rock sequins at ninety-nine.”
Diana adds, “Especially not you.”
They both cackle all the way there.
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