The Grartor party last year was akin to the Ashley Madison data leak. The organizers had laid down facts with proof on the tables, but remained invisible themselves.
It led to a lot of speculation along with break-ups and heartburn. Who could be masterminding this? The guy I spurned in college, because he was too fat? That nosy neighbor who kept a watch on my visitors? Or somebody who had an eye on my partner, and wanted us to break up? Gossip mills creaked throughout the year. People moved out of the township, and from each other’s lives. The new inhabitants had no clue about the happenings, but became unwitting targets of prying eyes.
The invitation had landed again in the mailbox today.
What did I say about the people I don’t like? Well, I have the courage to repeat the same on their face. But what if they had said something about me? Would they be able to corroborate?
Why am I imagining the theme would be Gossip? But people had not done much else during the last year. How I wish the guests land up with flowers, all gagged and blindfolded ….. We would only exchange floral pleasantries.
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Great response Reena, I love that ending ‘only exchanging floral pleasantries.’ Thanks for your thoughts this week.
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Thank you, Michael!
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