Lost Art of Mystery

Perched on the edge of the sidewalk, they lean in close to each other to gossip in loud whispers about passersby. Everybody gets a look and comment, along with an eye roll or blatant stare. The criticism is superficial yet cutting. “Look at her, she thinks she’s so hot. I was far more attractive in my day!” “Yeah, remember how we used to get all gussied up for parties at the studios? My god, we were living dolls, dressed to the nines! Nothing like these tawdry little harlots of today!”