Devonne Brown

“Boy, do I have a secret or what?” Margaret said to her reflection in the mirror. She gazed deeply into her own eyes. 

Boom. The door on the bathroom echoed when the blond walked in whispering to her red headed friend. It sounded like they had secrets too. Margaret had no idea what they were saying, only that they were speaking in tones she wasn’t meant to hear, Urgent whispers where it was more necessary to speak rather than keep silent for a while. What was it that those women whispered so vehemently about that was so time sensitive?

Margaret was not to know it, so she washed her hands to see if the pair would continue to be secretive, “There’s nothing wrong with using parchment paper,” whispered the redhead to the blond as if she were cooking meth, At least that’s what she thought the red head said, those words were spoken in anger and weren’t meant for her ears anyway. 

We have the right to whisper, and keep our secrets, but folks are going to be curious. Act like you try to hide something, folks are going to find out. What if folks find out? Don’t run for public office. Secrets have to be juicy to run for public office.