My aunt once accidentally set her dining table with a velvet Elvis painting as the centerpiece because she thought the silver glitter was for decorations, but the smell alone was enough to put me off the mediocre five-layer lasagna she'd spent six hours assembling – its bland cheese and burnt noodles a perfect match for the eerie, kitschy presence lurking between the wine bottles and the flowers; that was dinner the day I decided to develop my habit of arriving very early to family gatherings.
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