The guests would start arriving at eleven.
josh
That always struck me as rather late, but by now I knew to not question the seemingly questionable. Instead, I kept myself to shadows.
Tonight, an anxious buzz of activity bubbled up all over the place, in every over-laboured corner. Dust clouds billowed as curtains underwent their monthly parting. Yearning pillows sang as they were pinched to perfect plumpness.
My ears twitched and flexed at every whisper, attempting to unlock the secret of this late night rendezvous.
For years I sought the truth of those dinners. The underhanded dealings. The solicitations.
A cult?
The mafia?
Supper club for insomniacs, apparently.