The words for 3WW LXXIII are slight, girlfriend and imagined.
Was it a slight or had she just imagined it? He had swept back into the office so close to her that she could have touched him, and regained his regular seat without acknowledging her existence. She had opened her mouth to say ‘Hi!’ but was left to close it again without having uttered a word. As he was wearing dark glasses, it was difficult for her to judge whether or not he had actually seen her. But he must have seen her. She definitely felt slighted.
Francine often wondered why she’d been born into the twenty-first century. She would have fared better before the 1960s when women’s liberation started to be a force to be reckoned with. She saw herself as the pursued rather than the pursuer; the rabbit rather than the fox. Why couldn’t she do what any one of her friends would have done and simply go up to him and say, ‘I want to be your girlfriend’. It would have been better still in the nineteenth century when men actively wooed the women. She was, however, a realist and her native common sense soon gave her a kick in the buttocks. Of, course she would then have needed a dowry or been like one of Jane Austen’s heroines, needing a rich husband like Mr Darcy to rescue her from her poverty. Not that she had any objection to Darcy. She also reflected that Victorian marriages were no better than modern ones and were often more hypocritical. She thought of poor Helen Graham in ‘The Tenant of Wildfeld Hall’ who had been forced to run away from her violent and drunken husband, taking her small son with her. No, maybe it was better now and she couldn’t expect him to know what she was thinking without her having given him any indication that she was interested . . . but he had slighted her.
She snapped out of her reverie to find him standing in front of her. He had taken off his dark glasses.
‘You must think I’m a dork, wearing sunglasses indoors,’ he said. ‘The optician put drops in my eyes to enlarge the pupils and it made everything look so bright.’