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 end-of-season tensions mount, static between the Wordle Friends materializes.
The Wordle Friends eviscerate our nation's corrupt Washington plutocrats using devastating satire.
The Wordle Friends battle burnout and ennui with more than half of December still to go.