As is only proper at an occasion such as this, there is a white tent. Inside the white tent is a long white table. The table is empty and flanked by white empty chairs. 
Squarely in front of the table is Kim, framed on both sides by golden lights and tall, swirling brown pillars that vaguely resemble cathedral architecture. 
She says, “Even though we are arguing, we still have this huge dinner, with all our friends and family, and I’m hoping we can just forget about the tension and the drama, and let’s just enjoy ourselves.” 
Her hair curls darkly down her shoulders. Her eyes are lined thickly in black, faux lashes doll-like, brows arched, lips nude. Her skin can only be described as creamy. As she talks, her voice is soft, baby-ish. She looks right at us. 
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