"So tired looking, that one," she said softly and her long nails grazed her armrest. She had been about to point, but he had stopped her by placing his hand firmly upon her forearm. He looked upset, in fact, that she was even talking.

She pulled her hand away and up to her chin where she rested her face lightly. She smiled bemusedly. Tired and odd looking. More odd than tired, maybe.

He gave her a sharp look suddenly and so, to annoy him, she placed her arm back on the rest.

The meeting ended almost as soon as her skin touched the wooden chair, like it was some kind of electric signal. Circuit switch close. As simple as that, she thought wonderingly and pulled up her shawl so that it rested limply on her arms, the way did it in New York and everywhere else where people didn't have meetings without even putting on some make-up so they didn't look like their eyes were carrying baggage.

She slipped gracefully out of her chair and straight to the floor, because she tripped on her heel which had snapped in two unfortunately. She could see it, in fact, from where she was, her head resting ashamed on the ground. The shoe was upended with the wooden heel snapped but not completely severed so that a little block hung to the side attached by the most tenuous sliver.

He had done it, of course, scored it with that pocket knife of his when she wasn't looking and this wasn't the first time.