“There was blood everywhere and everyone was running around with strawberry soup stuff all over their Pashminas.”
The tables were being draped in shades of pink for important guests that were soon to arrive. Soon, though, was more of estimate than an actual depiction of time. We all know that it isn’t fashionable to wear watches. There was a big debacle about whether or not to lay the knives “in” or “out.” I thought about just picking one up and slitting my throat but thought the better of it, as it would probably ruin the overall color scheme. Whatever.
I watched the door, standing at attention with my hands firmly pressed together behind my back. An old, bespectacled man, the embodiment of dust itself and melanin challenged, moseyed on over and up the stairs. Less aged versions of himself, dapper in business casual, followed suit. A supposedly “glamorous” woman with shoes that my co-workers would not shut up about walked by, confidently carrying her…
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