(found outside The Black Bull, splashed with the drops of an angry drink)
What a dangerous game we play, dearie. What a dangerous game indeed.
I feel that I have really broken something. I feel that I have just picked up a giant, gleaming vase and smashed it into a thousand pieces upon the ground.
I have an urge to scramble around on the ground, dear Roxy, and collect the thousands of pieces I have left there. I have an urge to gather them all up and reassemble them into a solid whole once again, to fetch some glue and stick it all back together again.
But how did it all get there? What brought that cloud over my beloved’s darling face? What, dearie, could have so quickly transformed that cloud from curiosity to annoyance, annoyance to fear and fear to anger and disgust?
And that game, that dangerous game of Truth, what are we to do with it? For Truth, Roxy, puts so many in danger. Truth, our tiny little Truths that we so desperately share through little puffs of smoke, it can do harm to others as much as it can to us. And those little puffs can build, they can grow dense and thick and big enough for anyone to get lost in.
So is it worth it? The Truth, the Truth, any and all Truth?
Is it worth it, to speak honestly, even if it means picking up a vase and smashing it on the ground, even if it means angering and disgusting and spitting out these great, billowing and unrefined clouds of acrid smoke dense enough to choke in, thick enough to get lost in?
Of course it is, dear Roxy. And why wouldn’t it be? Because the smoke will clear, suns will burn through the clouds and we will, believe me dearie, we will find ourselves still standing. And perhaps – hopefully, but still perhaps – we will find one or two friends still standing there beside us.
So of course it is worth it, Roxy, to share the Truth, as much of it as we can see, at least. We will find something in those acrid clouds of it.
So those pieces are still on the ground, dearie. That dangerous, dangerous game – well – I fear that I have simply lost it.
But I don’t care, dear Roxy. I really don’t. I was honest, and what more, dearie, could you ask of me? That’s, quite simply, what I stand for.
Read other responses to today’s Daily Challenge here: