A CLASSY REGRET

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.

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About Klassy

How Klassy got her groove back.

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