It was a moment preserved in brine. Social vinegar pickling the brains of all who swam in its slipstream. I was paddling out of the whole mess. Junior nodded sagely at my unwanted advice, asking for one thing and receiving another. Enlightenment with a clawhammer. I downturned my mouth, palms up, shrugging, offering physical evidence that it was his affair, not mine. Interfering in others' lives has never, ever been part of me or my makeup. Junior took the long walk to the heavy glass doors and stooped and straightened for the off. I gazed at his receding form and went back to my own pressing problems. Social vinegar. I had a dry laugh at that particular gem, one of Elle's newly minted descriptions of the social scene here. Apt.