In the end, there was no-one left to talk to.
Where politics and pandemics failed to divide and isolate, cancel-culture and censorship succeeded.
It had become easier not to talk though, for fear that someone, somewhere might hear you and delve deep into your hitherto seemingly unremarkable past to retrieve some deed, some thought, some opinion that ran counter to the creed.
And where they couldn’t find something you had done, they set about trawling for acts of omission.
So ultimately there was no-one left to talk to.
But it hardly mattered, because there’d been no-one prepared to listen anyway.
And on that note, thanks to Rochelle for her ever cheerful leadership of Friday Fictioneers. 🙂