Yasmin Hussein, a tall, curvaceous, sinfully sexy Somali-Canadian Muslim cutie. We met under less than ideal circumstances at work, and totally clicke.... For a while, we were together. This chick changed my life. I loved Yasmin more than I loved myself. How I miss my Somali goddess. Still, you can’t have a love story when it’s just one person in love. I love Yasmin, but I doubt that she loves me. If Yasmin did love me, she wouldn’t have done what she did. Twenty four hours ago, my world was. Dad was wholeheartedly on board with what Karen and I were doing and didn't attempt to meddle in our plans. I knew that he had talked with my mom a few times, too. Irene had come around even better but was shy from shame at how she had handled things initially. However, she had found a truly nice guy at school and that has seemed to help. He didn't care about my parents' money. His parents had more and he didn't care about that either. He had his own.We pulled up at the church. I had only gone. More

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