Crap! Supposed to be writing. You’d laugh if you knew why I’d not gotten to it till late. I think I’ll continue with the interview from the day before.
“When you walk into a party, what do you notice first?”
“Really? That’s one of your questions?”
“It’s on the sheet. Someone must have thought it important along the way.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to imagine a character for whom my invented reply wouldn’t trend more towards disdain than excitement. Some one who might say, ‘What the hostess is wearing.’ or ‘If the house is clean.’ or ‘Is the food expensive.'”
“Let me help out a little.” Rhoda spreads her hands like she’s holding a gift box. “I like parties. I like getting dressed up for them. I like showing off my hair or my gown. I like showing up the hostess if she’s bit of a snip or the likely guest of honor if she’s, but in a subtle way…a older broach, a more exotic dress, a Gron-made. But I don’t like it enough to care beyond that day and that night. ”
“Gron-made?”
“Gron was a metaleer. Popularly, he’s famous for the twenty bronze statues in the plaza outside House Hour, but in my circle he made daggers and knives. Good for throwing; great for hiding.”
“Great. I should probably make a note of that.”
235 words on day 592