kabuki theater

It was January and I was number 45 in the line of patrons stretching from the door of the Glut coop to the corner of 38th and Bunker Hill Road. Winter like all seasons has a unique scent that I look forward to every year. Taking a deep breath I was prepared to be transported back to Christmas 1985 in Akron, Ohio.  However, instead, of smelling crisp, cold snow, I was transfixed by the arresting scents of vanilla and tuberose. There is only one person I know who wears Delina, a House of Marly perfume bottled in France.
 
 "Yoo Hoo Darling," Simone cooed as she glided up to me.  

With an afro and yellow Isabel Marant High top trainers hidden under wide legged sweat pants, Simone was almost taller than me.  Today, her post Covid-19 nails were shorter than I remember. But they were still covered in crystals and matched the pink shopping bag she carried bearing the wording, "Kamala AKA M.V.P." in green script.

 "Hey Girl!," I said with a smile. "I haven't seen you since March.  Where have you been hiding?"    

"Not hiding, darling.  Just sheltering in place…" 

"Are you running out of things to do yet?," I asked.

"Never that.  I am busier now than I've ever been."     
 
"Busy doing what?," I asked. 

"Maintenance! Since Covid hit, I'm having to re-learn how to keep up appearances one YouTube video at a time." 

"That doesn't sound too bad.  But, what are you doing for fun?"

"Kabuki! theater!," Simone said. 

"Kabuki?," I asked quizzically.

"Yes, doll!  Haven't you noticed, that despite Biden's win, we are witnessing  a nationwide pantomime? I don’t know who the producer is, but each new Act is more outlandish than the one before.  There have been Kraken sightings, two attempted coups, 62 lawsuits, threats and now an insurrection in the Rotunda.  Every time I think the curtain is about to fall, the peanut gallery demands an encore performance.

"Agreed!", I said. "The political shenanigans of the past 4 years have been unprecedented."  

"January 20th can't come soon enough!," Simone said.