After two months and several phone calls, I finally have a valid driver’s license again, but my photo is all blurry. If someone were to ID me, they’d look upon my license, and say, “The person in this photo is soft-focused and maybe starring in a floral perfume commercial. You look sharper and have more visible skin imperfections. Are you sure this is you?”.
And I’ll be like, “I shan’t tell a lie. ‘Tis me. The truth is that I am half vampire, and I am cursed to photograph as though in a hazy dream.”
And they’d be like, “Okay, we cannot sell you this bottle of wine.”
Now that I have a blurry-photo’ed driver’s license, I may never be positively identified again. Such is the miserable, mysterious life of a somewhat blood-curious maiden with a license to operate a vehicle in the evergreen state.
