“Mrs Know-it-all I’m known as, and you must be him” she said looking at him with disgust in her eyes. He looked at her as if he knew exactly who she was, her reputation had preceded her, Mrs Know-it-all indeed.
She asked questions whilst already assuming the answer. She could could tell you more about your life than you could. The information was always incorrect, but don’t tell her that, because she could argue with you for eternity about your own life. She knew all the rumours before they were even started, probably because she was the one who started them all. As for secrets, once she knew them, they became Chinese whispers. The truth became a distorted concoction of he said she said.
I remember the first time I met her, I couldn’t quite tell who she was. My naivety mistook her for a friend, an ally almost, but she quickly showed me who she really was. She knew her fiction to be facts and facts to be fluid. Even with proof and evidence she always argued her point, and would suddenly change arguments making you none the wiser. She was skilful, basic but skilful.
He continued on the conversation with her, relaying information she already knew through grapevines and whispers. She walked over and she approached us, ready to reveal all she had acquired. I stood up, ready to leave, unable to tolerate or entertain her behaviour any longer.
Thank you for reading.