There was one last thing on your schedule: Your next date with Spooky Leftist. Here, after journeyed the same paths, she sits on the same chair at the same table.

“Good evening, Thread. It’s nice to see that you decided to come,” says she, like she is not behaving like a creepy stalker. “I even bought you another cake, since you have forgotten the last one.”

To the other side of her on the table does stand the cherry cake. Don’t, it’s poisoned, she is conniving some sort of evil plan! She is making you to her marionette.

“Can you stop!” You almost scream out, “I don’t want to be a part of your weird skullduggery.” She blinks, you bring the other patrons’ attention to you. “For all I know, this cake is probably poisoned. What do you want from me? It’s not like I can give you anything.”

“Why would I poison your cake?”

She would, indeed, not gain anything from that.

“That’s not the point!”

“Thread, I am just helping you.”

She is not only ‘helping’ you, is she?

“You are trying to control me.”

She mulls over it, taking sip from her coffee to get some thinking-time. “Yes.”

She just admitted it. That was too easy.

“Now, please, sit.”

You grumpily do so – the patrons became disinterested – you even started to eat the cake. Through the day you haven’t eaten anything.

She starts to talk: “I was born in prerevolutionary times.” She did not need to point out that fact. You can see her crow’s-feet. “My family and I lived, because we were lower nobility, in a well-off house.”

“Lower nobility? I thought you are a communist.”

“I’m coming to that. As a part of the petty rich I had lots of time on my hoofs. I used that time with reading, simply out of curiosity I read Marks. Of course, I didn’t believe that much of it at the beginning, I was comfortable, I didn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck. However, time flied, contradictions amassed, and things got worse for many. I had friend who were directly affected. This radicalized me. Long story short. I chose the right side of history.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“To chitchat.”

“Don’t you have those friends to do that with?”

“They are dead.” She says akin to a completely normal fact.

Sentimentality: Dead. They are all dead. One starved, the other was shot on the barricades, they all dropped like flies, suicide, drug-abuse, disease. The remaining others chose the wrong side, they might as well be dead. She was useless in preventing any of it. Hatred festered. The friends created in times in which they all believed in fairytales faded away. Today, only work and comrades remain.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s in the past. It’s better that I work in the now.” She says. There was a pause, you continued to slowly eat the cake. She takes out a cigarette.

‘This is too much emotional labor’ she thinks.

This cake is really good. She was lying when she said it’s ‘alright’. This, right here, is gourmet. “You know,” you say with food in your mouth, “the cake’s good.”

She asks, waving the cig, “I hope this doesn’t bother you.”

You reply, “I’m kind of recovering from…” what exactly? Alcohol, definitely, there must be more, “…many things.”

She sighs, putting the cig back into her pocket. “Anyhow,” she continues, “since I was on the right side, I was allowed to keep the large house of my family, without the servants, obviously. That doesn’t mean I own the house; no creature here does own theirs nowadays. And I am not allowed to live in it alone, I couldn’t anyways, it’s too big. That’s why my nephew, my only relative that I have any contact with, lives with me.”

Think logically. Why would she be telling you all this.

She could be lying again. But there is nothing to gain for her by doing that. So, that’s unlikely.

She isn’t just chitchatting. Something else perhaps? She is getting to very touchy and emotional topics…

“Are you trying to befriend me?” you ask.

“If you want to be blunt about it.”

She wouldn’t *just* try to befriend you. She doesn’t seem like a person to make many friends.

“Are you kidding?!” you call out, “Are you for real?” All this, only to talk to you? A random idiot?

“What do you mean? You are the first in a while to just casually converse with me. It reminded me I need friends. In my field it’s not a good idea to befriend my colleagues. ”

“You don’t get friends by pseudo-blackmailing and bribing them!”

“I don’t understand. The bribe – oh, what do the youths call it nowadays? – ah, yes it was a vibe check.”

You were about to respond. But that’s hindered. A bright flash. A creature falls from the sky. The rest of your cake gets squished. The table buckles, before the creature falls of it. The other patrons jump at the sudden, loud arrival, you didn’t fare better. Spooky Leftist wasn’t faced even as she got covered by coffee and cake matter. The creature got the worst, covered with bruises that were there before its arrival. On its landing, a fork stuck into the creature.

“What’s that?!” you ask.

“A griffon.” She explains factually.

Author's Note

Side notes
Homeownership: Obviously, people in real life communist states owned their own homes. In fact, communist and ex-communist states tend to have higher homeownership rates. It's a bit more "utopian" in this socialist pony state.