This is Yvonne.
None of the spoons are gonna match at Yvonne’s brunch party.
These are Yvonne’s people and that’s how she likes them.
Each began within a matching set then managed to vanish under various, tarnished circumstances. Some took passage in the inside jacket pockets of lushy, light-fingered party attendees.
One slipped from a cobalt velvet storage box just before the lid snapped shut. It spent months lolling in shadows, grooves gathering an oily dust, until a slobbery beagle buried it beside a half-chewed bone.
The smallest of them could recall only wispy, yellow feathers and the metallic snap of outdoor air.
Lost as they may have been, journeying became them and brought them home.
This is Yvonne’s Brunch Party. If you travel here you will arrive exactly as you should be.