Funny you said this.
My youngest kept gravitating there, where the punch was tucked in an alcove. My aunt came to me and said how cute he was, perched on the windowsill and having quite a conversation with nobody.
I chalked it up to the spirits lingering in that well-known haunt.
All ended well with only one person asking about the current status of old beefs. I dug some aspirin from my purse for the groom’s stressed mom and sent mental sympathies to someone in an even more awkward position than me.
We left when I said, but not first. So no bloodshed.
Thanks for humoring me by listening to my angst and for sending good thoughts (you and Randomly Me ).
PS: Bey all the way.