"I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can." -Ernest Hemingway

“The only living works are those which have drained much of the author's own life into them.” –Samuel Butler

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Outsider


Conversation swirled around Annabelle but she didn’t listen to a word.  Her thoughts were overtaken by her never-ending to-do-list.
                Annabelle sat aimlessly fidgeting in her seat. I don’t have time to sit and listen to this idle chatter. I have an infinite list of things to complete.
                Suddenly, Annabelle felt a small tingle in the base of her head.  Looking up, she realized the whole room peered at her with expectant looks of curiosity.
                “Huh, what?” Annabelle managed to choke through her embarrassment.
                “Oh, Annabelle, we were just inquiring on how your latest project is going.  We are all so curious as to what you have been up to since, well… Since you got displaced from your job.”  Annabelle’s audience waited with pleasant smiles on their faces which didn’t hide the rude nature of their question.
                Disgust rose within Annabelle.  She desired nothing more than to storm out of the room but she wouldn’t give her audience that satisfaction.
“I have just been dabbling in a few things… Oh, and that reminds me, I must be getting back to my work.”  Annabelle quickly gathered her purse and prepared to leave.
On her way out, she heard the insincere, “It’s a tragedy to see you go…”
Fighting the urge to barge back in, Annabelle managed to make her way to her car in order to finally leave this hell she only visited for her mother’s sake.  If not for her mother’s singular devotion to keeping appearances up, Annabelle wouldn’t put herself through the misery of spending even a second at this self-centered high society country club.
Sighting to alleviate some of her overbearing frustration, Annabelle continued her drive home to her impatiently awaiting to-do-list.

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