2052

Francois has just fastened the white page onto the fridge door under the fridge magnet and Kenny gushes, "My fridge magnet.  You still have it."  and he walks over to touch it, as though it is for him a holy icon. "I just put it up now", say I. " I was hoping you'd see it." No one seems ready to comment on the document that is written on that page, as though by silent consensus we are already agreeing to no longer talk about the Refuge, nor any of our experiences there, and I am frankly hoping that we do give it a rest, for a while anyway, as I am sure are also the others. "Is there enough room for everyone", wonders Erik. "Yep," says Carl, "Six chairs for six bums." "Oh speak for yourself, Mildred", camps Kenny. "Mildred", guffaws Carl in mock offense.  "Did I just hear you call me Mildred?" "It'll be Milly for short", says Francois with a sharp little giggle as he seats himself with his coffee refill. "Well. I never", says Carl, hands on his hips, then flicking his wrist like a stereotypal queen, then taking his place across from Francois. "Sure you never, girl." says Kenny in that wicked drag queen cackle of his, or hers, that I always used to love, "Sure you never". and he slides onto the chair next to Carl.   "It better not stick." "Now just move that butch ass of yours, Milly, cuz I am sitting next to you." "Too late, Carl", say I, taking myself a seat at the end of the table while Ethan and Erik both follow suit, "Or should I say...Milly..."