That look is so carefully calculated I wonder she didn’t work it out using paper and pencil.
“So, you agree?” she asks, leaning forward in her chair.
Her pale hair swings forward, framing her wide eyes. That look is so carefully calculated I wonder she didn’t work it out using paper and pencil.
“Your coffee’s getting cold,” I observe.
What’s always astounded me about Andrea is how she can make a single breath sound as though it would wither a healthy field of crops. She picks up her mug and sips from it, those eyes never leaving my face or narrowing even slightly. I consult my notebook, tapping my pen on the edge. I know I’m driving her to distraction.
“But you do agree,” she says again. “You have to, it’s the only way forward.”
The eyes are now boring into me, I can feel it. I share a conspiratorial smile with the funny dog sketch I’m now making in my notebook. Maybe I can actually aggravate her enough that she’ll chuck that coffee over me. The damage to my jacket, on balance, would be more than worth it.
“All the statistics point this way,” she says, standing up for emphasis. “Believe me, I like it even less than you do ….”
Well, she’s loving this so that logic just fell out of the sky dead. I add a caption to the dog sketch. She sits back down and leans towards me again, her face becoming contrite.
“You are hearing me, aren’t you, john?”
“Loud and clear.”
“So, you’ll hear my opinion at the meeting,” I tip her a conspiratorial wink.
She relaxes and drains her coffee mug, actually seeming to savour it this time.
“Right then,” she says, setting it down with a definite chink, “Until tomorrow then.”
I watch her go, wondering if she realises I just lightly hopped down to the opposite side of the fence to the one she thinks she pushed me off.