distress sounds

“How are you?”
I give the universal “ugh” response.  Mind a bit … elsewhere.
“Go to pride at all?”
“No,” I say flatly.  She looks more than a little disappointed.  It takes me a second to register… maybe my lack of a showing at “Pride” fails a test of solidarity in the wake of a catastrophic hate crime, so I say “Sorry?”
Quickly, she shuffles forth with “About?”
“That I didn’t see the parade.”
“Oh, no.  No.”  Clearly not wanting to make me feel like a dick, “The parade was oh so long this year.”

Shortly she’d learn of a more immediate loss for me, and I suppose things would come around to make her feel like a dick.  The reality of her disappointment was probably along the lines of “failing to engage in topic the moment.”

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