The Trickster Diaries, part 3/Chapter 20

Within 30 seconds of posting the piece designed primarily to get Juliette’s attention, it’s reposted, by Kelly, lead editor of the writing community.
What?!
This was the same Kelly I’d caught in a lie, then simultaneously exposed her lie to millions of Ello users. Same Kelly who refused to repost anything I’d written beginning with the final three quarters of my novel.
It made no sense. Why this piece? Why now?

The first cloudburst of email “ding” sounds began going off a few minutes later. And kept going. In less than an hour, my post about loss had received an unprecedented SIX THOUSAND views, 20 loves, six comments.

Slowly, it began to register: that the irreversible paradox of grief itself, of loss and longing, of coping, enduring, moving on, was an integral piece of existence that connected us all.
All.
No tough guys in this game, only pretenders.

A reversal of intent, for sure, but in getting to the comments maybe three hours later — the views now up past 10k — I was struck by another unanticipated plot twist. There were scattered blue heart and teardrop emojis among the responses but only two of two dozen touched on condolence. 90% were expressions of gratitude: “Thank you so much!” or, “Kisses. You’re an angel,” or, “So beautiful, wise, inspiring,” or, “Love this. Been there. Thanks.”

I was embarrassed, and deeply humbled. All I wanted was to talk with my old friend, my muse, and instead — in a screeching U-turn of events — morphed from self-centered prick into the Thich Nhat Hanh of Elloland.

A hard shower of “ding” sounds the following morning softened to sprinkles by afternoon, periodic drops by nightfall, silence by the third day.