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Raspberries?

How life is, that the most unheroic detail can somehow make the distances between us seem smaller, and the room less cold. I stand with Kate, and everyone follows suit. If talking has died down, maybe everyone’s spirits will be revived by a little bit of a stretch and walk.

The grating of many wooden chairs follows, and with a start I realize that another figure has joined the group, with a quiet “Hello.”

In the many places I’ve visited, never to stay, being the new one is a familiar feeling, and hopefully she will be comfortable within minutes. I hurry up to her, the usual questions on my lips: So, where have you come from? What does your chair look like? What’s your story? 

But the oddness of Kate’s words seem to have muddled my mind, and I blurt the question out before I feel the embarrassment. “So, do you like raspberries?”

@bama-rose (read the whole forum first 😉 )

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