I looked around the small suite of rooms, the bitter taste of envy sharp on my tongue. Tired, so tired of Reese. She wasn’t anything so spectacular, but she was the honey of popular opinion and it didn’t matter that she had no substance. She was pure fluff, cotton candy for the eye and ear. All sugar, no spice, and not very much nice. So of course wherever we stayed, she got the sweet suites while I got—this.

Still, I didn’t have to constantly suffer the sycophantic mob that sought her out at every opportunity, so I at least could have some peace. Not such a bad life. I wandered through the suite, noticing for the first time the cozy feel of the space, the rich, muted tones of the paintings, the comforter in the same shades as my old favorite one at home, and I decided that, in fact, I had the better suite. My lips twisted into a semblance of a smile as I recognized my one real talent coming into play. I stood a moment, silently lost in the bittersweet savor of learning how to make the bitter sweet.