Two glasses of wine and you don’t belong anymore. It doesn’t really matter if you’re actually talking louder, it’s the perception. You imbibed and even though you aren’t driving, the morality police are out. You’re just a step away from being out of control, even though you feel inside so good – and it’s not because of the alcohol. It’s because you’re finally relaxing. Maybe that’s the problem, because when you relax, you laugh a little too loud – you get a little too excited and it makes other people aroun
So they bring out the Bandages and the Stares. The Stares aren’t so bad, at least they’re side long. Fluttering looks of annoyance or shame at your company, brief glimpses of being irritated in the shadows cast by their brows. They play with their forks but they don’t want to play with you.
They don’t remember being that kid everyone used to laugh at that moment, because right then, they get to exercise that power over you. They get to have that control, and it’s that control that erases the pain and memories of what it’s like to be scrutinized and looked at under a microscope.