Gossip and Slander

I sat at the same table again today, at the coffee shop. A different set of customers from the other day. Not the usual crowd. I overheard a man and a woman sitting at a table behind me. They were talking of a man who keeps the archives. I heard a name but I don’t know it. Being foreign to this city, I know very few Voices by name. The accusations were harsh and unfiltered. Saying a woman, whose name I also forgot, knows better of the city’s facts than the man. “Her voice is so certain, it must be true!”, the man said. “She has been conspired against”, they asserted, and the faintest twang of hatred laced those words. “Proof of the fire is in the smoke!” the lady hissed. There was more unadulterated bile which I would not repeat, not even here in the privacy of my personal notes. One never knows how the written word may seek its own evolution. Then I was angered to a boiling point when, out of nowhere, they lashed out at the one I love. Zara. They mocked her beauty, accusing her of licentiousness. Abruptly I stood and rushed out the door. I wanted to hear no more, but not before I heard them say she was expecting an illegitimate. Seething, my brain harboured tornadoes and thunderstorms. I knew it must be a lie. All lies, born of pure jealousy. I know of no Voices that procreate. There is no such thing. Not Zara…surely.

Morron.

(P.S. The ink dried and then I remembered the woman Voice was called Vera)