She set the table immaculately. Bread plate, salad
fork, dinner fork, dinner plate, dinner knife, bread knife,
spoon. There was even a finger bowl. She seated her guests
according to age and importance. She passed to the right.
Between each small, dainty bite and the next, a chasm yawned
that no one else could see. Pride holds us up
when every two notes threaten to be the beginning
of the same inescapable song. Like that.

But quieter.


About Klassy

How Klassy got her groove back.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: