The Party

By: Lauren Spagnoletti

Rachel frantically rearranged the platters for the third time. The lights were dimmed just so, and the cocktail napkins, purchased especially for this occasion, were neatly stacked and twisted to look fancy – as seen in a magazine. Guests dribbled in as she removed the hot appetizers from the oven. She flittered about, taking drink orders and exchanging glib pleasantries. Her face grew hot with every glass of wine and lap around the room. At 11:30 she collapsed on the couch of her empty house, the din of the party a mere memory. The emptiness reclaimed its usual place within.

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