chop chop chop. two chopping boards, eight helping hands. often more are willing, but with only two boards few get chopping duty.
this is how the night always begins.
something’s simmering. plates are being set out. darts are thrown. the apéro begins.
then you look up. notice the sky. and vanish. mais où est partie cathy? someone will ask when they notice the empty seat.
[but where did cathy go?]
this becomes a routine question, as well as a routine answer.
here is where you’ve gone. a sunset watching spot. it changes each time as you try and find the best area for watching the sun go to bed.
gradually your new friends are getting used to you and your random disappearances. later on – they’ll even join you.