Tuesday came far too quickly for anyone emotionally prepared to face hummus again, yet there they were—gathered in the Moon Pavilion, where seating cushions were embroidered with phrases like "Trauma But Make It Seasonal" and "BYO Shadow Work."
Clarissa, now wearing a crown of organic parsley and vague superiority, perched atop the Snack Throne. It was made of gluten-free crackers and had a built-in fondue dispenser, which no one questioned anymore.
Shen greeted guests in a flowing robe labeled "Boundary Bouncer" and handed out color-coded name tags:
Red = "May cry if hugged."
Yellow = "Touch me and you die, but gently."
Green = "I've processed enough to high-five."
Greg, who had apparently taken a few too many online courses in sacred drama facilitation, wore a headdress made entirely of recycled brunch menus and opened the circle with a solemn chant of, "Namaste, but like, ironically."
