Epilogue

It was today. Finally, after months and months of waiting, it was today. School would be finished by lunch as it always was on a Friday at Hamilton Grammar. But no, this was no time for always. Today, after months of texting and tweeting was the day of the Party. I suppose I'd always felt left out when I wasn't invited to the parties at school. I wish I'd known back then that the resultant nerdiness would eventually lead to my being the co-host of a party alongside Benedict Cumberbatch that entry had to be earned to by proof of fangirling. Missing out on the booze would have seemed like a blessing.
On returning home, I'd ironically been grounded - except for school. There had been hugs and kisses and I took the punishment willingly because I knew I had hurt them. They felt a little weird about me still having a thirty-eight-year-old actor's number on my phone but I think they could tell from the way I spoke about him that he felt like just another TwitterFriend.
Tonight, my parents had agreed to let us use the house and were going out to dinner in one of the many adorable side street Italian restaurants with like three tables. They were staying to help woth the decorations and the food. In fact, I entered my house to Ben discussing music with my dad: what constitutes rock? Apparently, my mum had given up with my dad's attempt to cook with her. He can get VERY bossy when he thinks he knows better than you, which to be honest isn't as rare as I'd like.
I didn't help much with the cooking but instead set up various shrines around the house, with a massive 'Shaliza' shrine immediately below some pictures of me through nursery. I was starting to feel like Ben was more connected to my parents than me but then they left and we started to talk about how much we felt.
How sad we were about those that died that day, on both sides.
How excited and nervous we were about tonight.
How happy we were to see each other.
How funny the Moricorn reference from last night had been.
Then the bell rang.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. We'd split sort of into groups but we'd float from group to group if we heard something we liked so I suppose we'd never all shake off Twitter.

http://twitter.com/Joanneabiscuit/status/315251093963677696/photo/1

I'd invited about fifty of my followers via direct message and had told the five who'd been there That Day to bring someone extra each.
It was really just a regular party. Not much to tell. Actually, I'd expected more of a difference with us all being in the one room. We had the same conversations, with the same people.
After all was done and Twitter returned from exile, I imagined those holograms you see in imaginings of the future, except maybe we're already there. We know so much about the person that we feel like they are there. Right there. Maybe holograms are abstract. Maybe technology is already so advanced that communicating so directly to someone so far away is what let's us see this person. Twitter puts us all in the Twitroom and it is my favourite room in my house.