Fortunately no one else wants a drink. Everyone seems more or less happy right now. Everyone has someone to chat with. Except me. I rather like it here at the dining room table, where I can randomly pick at the leftover ratatouille, half of which has been disembowelled, leaving it appearing as something very forlorn and desolate. And delicious. Sarah is coming over, but not with her plate. She pulls up the empty chair next to me.
"You look lonely"., she says. And that is like Sarah. All kindness and consideration for others, even if she ends up having to kill you in the process. And I am feeling lonely and left out, even though I am not going to admit this to her.
"I thought I should leave Chelsea and Carol and Dorothy to chat together. They seem to have a lot to say to each other." And she isn't going to admit it either. "So good of you to have us over like this. What, you're still hungry?"
"This stuff is so delicious and look how much is still leftover."
"Don't mind if I do", says she, picking up a stray fork and picking her own sample.
"How are you doing?"
"I'll be glad when this day is over."
"It's been very intense. We all seem to be living in epic proportions these days." She thoughtfully gourmandizes on some more ratatouille. "What happened to the baseball bat."
"and Jesús' keys?"
"It's all over the news."
"I already told you."
"You expect me to believe that some magical teenage kid appeared, 'demanded the bat and keys, disappeared, then somehow put them in that guy's truck then vanished again."
"You're expecting maybe a rational explanation."
"I have a very logical mind..."
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