Panic! At the Communal Table

I have nightmares about communal dining experiences. They each start the same way: small talk and commentary about jobs, the commute to dinner, the parade of family-style courses. Then comes that deadly lull. The people around me get that glazed, faraway look in their eyes, as if reminiscing about a better conversation they had once, long ago. Someone picks up their emotional support phone. It’s over.

But like a serial killer compelled to return to their hunting ground, I find myself inevitably making my way toward communal dining tables anyway. They seem to be popping up everywhere.