“Were you here last year?” a man with a white mask in the shape of a fox asks.
The woman sitting next to him shifts in her seat. “I don’t think questions like those are commoncourtesy around here.”
“Oh right, of course,” the man says. “I forget all the secrecy. I have never been too fond of it, so Iwouldn’t mind ditching my mask now, though I know it would ruin the integrity of the evening.”
I almost laugh at the idea that this event could ever have any integrity at all, but I don’t. I quietly takea seat in a chair far away from the rest of the guests and sip on my drink. Luckily, the masks cut offjust above the lip, allowing for unencumbered eating and drinking. But I can’t imagine feelingsomething as trivial as hunger while I’m trying to track down my fa
