(Portside) -- “One more round. We can’t end on this note,” Brian said, trying to be conciliatory.
“No, it’s time to go,” Maria said. True, it was getting late. It was the end of the week, we were all tired. But Brian was right. Just a couple of hours earlier it had been an idyllic scene of camaraderie: seated on the floor around a chesterfield ottoman with a game board on top, the fire keeping us toasty, drinking decaf and eating chocolate.
But our little gathering of trusting friends had just sunk into a feeling of conflict and distrust.
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As they stood in the dark kitchen to say goodbye, and I awkwardly searched for the dish they had brought for our potluck, the sense of estrangement between us was palpable. As the door closed behind them, my housemate and I began to discuss what just happened.