They’re like thief scavengers, circling. When the time is right, they swoop in and scoop.
They put themselves before wordless vows to wait. They are the cutters. As we plunge into the cold damp, darkness of winter, organizations step up to provide social functions that pry us from our warm homes to interact.
Food is usually one of the biggest draws. With it comes the devious, impatient types. You notice them, but you can’t say anything as your inner 7-year old pouts and looks around for the teacher. You don’t dare be a tattle-tale: what is this, second grade? You stare through the back of their head and wonder at what point their lives took such a devious, insensitive turn. You start looking ahead of the line to see if you can cut the cutter, but there’s no one. So you wait like you’re supposed to, because seriously, cutting? What is this, second grade?
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