The man she was going out with was finding more and more excuses to spend spend less time with her. She recognized the symptoms. Last night he was to come and pick her up to go dancing. She wore her black dress with burning red jewellery and matching shoes, a real sizzler. No one would help but look at him. But he never showed when she called his place there was that fucking machine that tasteless loud, loud music saying I'm unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave in an hour. She almost drove to his place to find out why the hell have you been able to come to the phone. But then she felt tired, tired of keeping them in line, tired of feeling outraged, tired of the fear of being abandoned, died of the thought of dancing, of love, of music, of attracting men, of encountering women. She went to bed and quietly slept all night. Sleep is a great remedy. In the morning she was herself again and aghast at the fact that she had slept with her makeup on. She called him again from her workplace. He was ever so ashamed of his behaviour last night, but it was unavoidable. And great news! Wait tell you heard this one. He had found a job of his dreams in the States and was leaving within a week or so and then out give it another week and totally unenthusiastic. How about coming along? She said she was absolutely thrilled. And yes, she would think about it. He said he was in an awful hurry and would really appreciate it if she told him by tomorrow at the latest. She said she would. She met him. She knew there was no job and then the bastard was taking the easy way out. She still would have swallowed her pride and would have gone to the States with him but she wasn't as free to do so. She had a mortgage to think about. She was still paying for the furniture. It was difficult to contemplate quitting her job. It paid well and was so easy. She was quite a success at it as well. Her ability to control people was not only used at work, it was also appreciated. She liked controlling people, she did it almost effortlessly. She would sit every day in front of one of the doors leading to the office where officers conducted pre-arranged interviews in tiny cubicles.
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