Six Sentences – and then what?
When the postcard arrived, she laughed and tossed it into the junk bin without bothering to read the details, “You are cordially invited to attend . . ” was all she needed to see, being cordially invited to anything was near the bottom on her list of things she enjoyed, right under jumping out of a plane without a parachute; besides, there wasn’t even a return address – which usually meant junk.
Three days went by without her giving so much as a passing thought to the postcard laying atop the annoying pile of credit card offers and home mortgage refi pitches waiting to be shredded, but then a second invitation arrived.
This one was fancier than the last, the soft, paper linen envelope held a handwritten summons, the gilded ink danced across a clouded vellum insert, “Your presence is requested . . .”, it almost felt like a crime…
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