Free-write gone off the rails!

Note: So this something that I initially wrote for today’s free-write, however just like the last one it came to have its own life and became completely something else, bouncing off the track it was supposed to be on. Still, I don’t want to waste this piece, so I’m putting this up.

Image below courtesy of Google.

RetroCocktailPartyFae Raoirse put out the savoury sweets on the glazed ceramic stand, filling it with crumpets, croissants and rolls. The spread on the table was unlike anything her mother usually cooked up for family dinners, but then again today was no ordinary day. The Raoirse family was hosting their own cocktail party in their loft apartment for the first time, after having assimilated into the upper echloens of society for two years.

Understandably, they were quite nervous. Mrs Raoirse felt inclined to check on the table setup every twenty minutes, asking everyone whether the food was sufficient for thirty and fretting over her Chanel dress, even though husband and daughters all assured her she definitely looked gorgeous.

Observing all the fuss around, Fae figured it was like her mother was going through the fretfulness of going to school for the first time again. Wondering if people will be impressed by her cooking, taste in decor and whether she would be cool enough for high society. With the exception of her mother’s age and the different settings involved, both experiences followed the same trajectory; just that different things were being fussed over and over-thought about.

Fae’s sister, Fleur, was equally nervous, even though Fleur constantly said she wasn’t. With one look Fleur betrayed her calm stance. She smoothed her hair every time she thought someone prominent had arrived, or one of the kids they had met while about in high society gatherings. Or maybe she was secretly waiting for a secret admirer, Fae mused. Though Fleur was the strong and wise kind of older sister whose sisterly wisdom have always been Fae’s rock in turbulent times, Fleur was more reticent when it came to her own romantic happenings.

 

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