The Group Text

Poor Mrs. Thompson.

Out of the dozen or so elderly women in the Church Craft Guild, it’s fair to say that Mrs. Roseann Thompson was the most prim and proper. At 85 years young, Roseann was consistent in her devotion to the Lord, His people, and to prayer for her 4 kids, 18 grandchildren and two greats. Her once a week at the Guild was her splurge of time and money. She herself was gifted at crocheting, knitting, needlepoint, and cross-stitching, and she had a smooth alto voice. The other ladies oooed and ahhhed her work every time she brought it, having worked on it at every spare moment. Her latest, a cross-stitch of intricate Christmas scenery, was taking the better part of a year to finish.

The day before each meeting, Samantha Riggins sent a group text reminder of the upcoming Guild meeting, what was on the menu, and anything else she deemed pertinent.

Besides the ‘sounds delicious’, thumbs up, and heart emojis in reply, it was a time for any of the regulars to respond.

Vickie Sammon replied that she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be coming, unfortunately. She didn’t want to spread her germs.

Four ladies replied with sad-face emojis within a minute, but the text from dear Mrs. Roseann Thompson halted the flurry of texts.

Sorry you suck, texted the very proper Mrs. Thompson.

Vickie smiled when she saw it and waited. She knew a follow up was forthcoming.

Fat fingers, Mrs. Thompson texted seconds later, Sorry you’re sick.

The text would be talked about for years. Sure, the mistake could’ve happened to anybody, but Mrs. Roseann Thompson was not just anybody