When she walked into a room, the small talk began.
She was a sweet, old woman but everything that came out for her mouth was a cliché. And she wasn’t alone. There was a trail of small-talkers she checked in with, from the beginning of her morning walk to the children playing in the courtyard at the end of the night. Her tone would rise as the day grew on so by dark, it sounded like child’s play. Inane small talk. Pointless chitter-chatter. The day would end at a pitch so high that only her loving pets could hear it.