She walks likes she means it. Not hurried. Purposeful – with measured, deliberate strides that announce her arrival long before she actually does.
She’s armed. Briefcase. Smartphone. But mostly with what you can’t see. Ivy league wit. Patience. Character you can’t fake.
You can almost picture the conference room and the business end of her laser pointer gliding effortlessly about the figures.
A surgeon in a skirt suit. Successful. Driven. Lonely. The projections are accurate, but they don’t look good.
Looking for more fast fiction? Check out Two Minutes Too Late