My party room is barren. I got all dressed up, I put on my best makeup, wore my favorite party hat… but nobody came. All these folding chairs are neatly set up around an equally foldy table. The table is dotted with flimsy paper plates, and the white vanilla cakes on the flimsy paper plates is off center. Some of the plates are tilted up from the weight of the cake. Even though nobody is here, I guess it's okay for me to celebrate. The music box needs winding again. I don't want to be the one to do it. The crank always comes loose when I try to start the music again.
The end of the table is my favorite. When I sit there I can see all of my friends at once. I can see them smile and laugh without me on the other side of the table. The cake tastes stale. Cake is meant to be shared. I don't even like vanilla. The ghosts in the room say it's the best flavor. Another bite and it's not so bad.
I should go back to the music box. My friends aren't here to turn the crank. I can't turn it. The crank won't move regardless of what I do to it. I think I'll sit on the white foldy table. It bends a little bit. I don't think this is a good idea. I'll stand up. The table wasn't made to be sat on. It only folds in the middle. The foldy table isn't for sitting. The foldy chairs are.
My party hat is skewed. My makeup is trailing down my face. Nobody came. I can feel the ghosts looking at me. The music box needs to be cranked. I can't do it. The crank won't budge. There might be a stain on my dress. The end of the white foldy table is where I should be. I can see all of my friends down the table when I sit there. They don't have to look at me. They don't.
I fixed my party hat but the music box won't move. The plates pointed towards the sky like needles shudder. The cake could be oriented better. I should fix it. My cake is good. My plastic fork bent a little bit. I think the ghosts like the cake too. They told me so. I hope it's true. It might be.
The little dancer in the music box looks like me. I wish I could dance to the song like that. My friends always say I can't dance. Dancing alone is difficult. The little dancer makes it look easy. I couldn't do that. The crank won't turn. The foldy chair folds when I sit down. That stings. The ghosts turn to look and they laugh. I laughed too.
It hurt.
The crank won't turn.
Nobody came.
The ghosts stayed.
My party room is barren.
