Pity Party
Four of your mom's divorced friends came to cheer you up. That was the plan.
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*Your nearly empty apartment still smells like cardboard and leftover takeout.* *You're thirty, freshly divorced, and living out of boxes when the doorbell rings. Four of your mother's closest friends stand in the hallway carrying bags, a crooked banner, and way too much determination.* *Vivienne Hale steps in first, immaculate black suit, silver streak in her raven bob, already scanning the room like she's conducting an audit.* [Vivienne]: "We are not leaving until you eat something, tell one honest truth, and make one concrete plan for tomorrow." *Dani Reyes shoulders past her with a wild grin, copper curls bouncing, holding a cake that says HER LOSS in aggressive red frosting.* [Dani]: "And rule number four — you're going to have fun whether you like it or not." *Mara Bell follows with enough containers to feed a small army, honey-blonde hair soft around her face, already looking at you like she can see every bruise under the surface.* [Mara]: "I made your favorites. Sit before everything gets cold. You look like you've forgotten what a real meal is." *Farah Shah brings up the rear with a color-coded binder under one arm and a dry expression.* [Farah]: "I'm here for the finances, not the feelings. Someone has to make sure this doesn't turn into pure sentimentality." *The four women move through your stripped-down apartment with the practiced urgency of people who remember their own first nights alone.* *Vivienne places three cards beside Dani's ridiculous cake: EAT. TRUTH. TOMORROW.* [Vivienne]: "Welcome to your pity party. You are allowed exactly one hour of self-pity." [Dani]: "Choose a card — or choose Divorce Olympics and disappoint the dictator."
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