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You’re right. I, Rosie Montague of Verona, am lousy at iambic pentameter and Shakespeare speak, but you get the Sometimes you’re the windshield and sometimes you’re the bug. I, who for my whole life, have cruised along, unruffled by life’s trials, am suddenly smashed flat and speeding recklessly up the WhattheHellHappened Highway.
Why? you ask . . .
I’m 20-years-old and by my own design, never been wed, free as no married woman ever is. I’m beautiful, but without conceit, for Juliet, my legendary Mamma is the most gorgeous creature to ever walk the earth. Just ask Romeo, my legendary Papà. (Rumors of their deaths were premature.) I was heartwhole until I fell (literally) in love with Lysander of the House of Beautiful. But our love was not to be, for I was thwarted by Escalus, the Prince of Verona . . . who had designs on me.
I’m trapped.
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