Is this what hell is like? My hands are shaking from too much coffee, and in a second, with a should, all is noise and sharp breaths spreading across the room.
What started it? The loud manoeuvring of trucks outside? The hushed sound of someone else's stifled laughter? A friend returned? Any which way, they seem oblivious that everyone can now hear their conversation, that one noise is not a cover for another.
Be more silent! Do not let another's failing social graces justify your own- stop the chain reaction in its path.
The truck is gone. Shouts slowly drop to whispers. Giggles swallowed, shamefaced. A phone call- French. And suddenly we all look round to judge.
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Though in my head I always classified us together- for as a trio in public we were and are unstoppable- that I remember there was only really one time when we spoke together privately. Then it was all seriousness and earnestly and self-defence and general bitchiness- characteristics I have filed under questionable in all of us- but very clearly, also them and us, he and we- a solid group, mutual opinions, an acknowledgement of somehow being as a three, a little separate from the groups we entertained.
But maybe all that really was just me, putting an overly subjective spin on what was, in fact, just friends talking. Though I hope not.
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