Giggles. High-spirited laughter. The sound of violins, a seven piece string group floating above the tinkling sound of silver on china, silver on crystal, and the sweet ring of crystal, all its own.

“What is it with ice sculptures?”

“Shh, Lindsey, don’t mock.”

“I’m not mocking, I just never quite understood it. I mean you’ve got this monstrously huge block of ice — it’s not even being used to chill anything, and it’s melting down, slowly going to disfigure itself in this room full of people who’re–”


“I swear to God that woman just pinched my ass.”

“Well, enjoy it, darling, this is her gala. If she wants to pinch it, you put it in her fat, wrinkled, little hand for her.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Uh-huh. But loved. Look, another camera! Smile!”


Talk back to me. Trust me; I'm listening.

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

You are commenting using your 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