Like a child's innocense, like a late winter snowfllake, like a night of passion, a truce can be such a fleeting thing. The Wordle Friends must inevitably and regrettably turn against one another, recalling the image of a weeping Wesley Snipes pointing a handgun at the camera in that one meme that's like "When I gotta kill Tony Hawk in the race war" or whatever.
As they enter the home stretch of the Spectacular September Season, the Wordle Freinds must stiffen their upper lips and face their post-vacation blues.
A last-minute communique throws The Wordle Friends into a panic, and they face today's puzzle with teeth grit and muscles kinked.
Whether it be at the paw of a rampaging bear or the ice-cold finger of father time, death shall someday come for the Wordle...