"…during a thunderstorm at Burning Man. She levitates now, but only when someone admits they still miss their ex."
A hush fell over the lawn.
Ron, as if in protest, promptly spat on Shen's mimosa and walked away with the dignity of a llama who knew he was too emotionally unstable to be called an alpaca.
Ava emerged from the mansion like a disgruntled duchess of passive-aggressive diplomacy. Her robe today: crimson silk embroidered with phrases like "Therapy is not a personality" and "No, I will not do yoga with a camelid."
"Good morning," she said crisply. "Welcome to Brunch Court: Live Edition. Adelle, please initiate the Consent Chant."
Adelle cleared her throat and began a solemn intonation: "We gather here in the name of mimosas, mid-morning grievances, and gluten-free justice. May our judgments be sharp and our cheeses sharper."
Ava snapped her fingers.
