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The Party

It was late and she was getting tired, sitting at her desk, planning for the birthday party. Her note pad was filled with scribbles and charts, remarks in red and purple ink. She had the pinata sorted out, finally. Food, drinks and the cake had been ordered, although she had had a shouting match with the caterer who dared quote her a ridiculous price for kiddie-portion finger foods. Now, she was going through the RSVPs for the kids party invitations she had sent out a month ago.

It was sad, she noted, how people hardly RSVP’ed anymore for parties. Or maybe it was just her luck. She dreaded the thought of typing out emails to all these people or sending them text messages, or worse, calling them, reminding them about the party, getting them to RSVP via the online party website she had used.

Leanne, Leanne. Her daughter was turning 5, she could hardly believe. She looked at a picture of Leanne, smiling into the camera and touched her face through the glass frame. How sweet she was. She smiled, thinking that she must’ve done something right to deserve such a wonderful daughter. Never mind that she had spent the last 4 years bringing Leanne up on her own, since her no-gooder ex-husband had walked out the door and left her to fend for herself and her infant daughter.

She couldn’t wait for the day of the party. Leanne would be so surprised, and so happy, that her mother had planned this whole wonderful thing for her. Tired, but smiling with happiness, she kissed the photo of Leanne and turned off the table lamp, getting ready to hit the sack.

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