She sits, bolt upright, and surveys the room. Like her, everyone here is a stranger to one another. She seems too rigid and false. Her hair is not carefully coiffured, it is a mess of thick wiry blond, it is reminiscent of a sheep’s coat. She surveys the scene, having arrived later than everyone else, the session is just starting, but she looks at everyone with a careful disdain. Her eyes narrow and her lips contract until a small thin pink line is all that’s visible. Perhaps she is annoyed, perhaps she is disgusted, it is hard to tell, but her look causes a bristle to the person carefully watching her behaviour.
The introductions had already begun, carefully moving about the room, conveying who each person is, and why they are here. A lot of nervous smiles and a wash of pride for every person who has gotten to this room today. Yet she sits, and she watches and she waits. When it is her turn, she conveys an authority that does not appear to be hers to give. There is something in her voice, like she has to boast of her background and what it is that she does, like she is somehow more important than every other person in the room. There is something about her that appears false, that she is something less than she is.
The hours tick by and she remains ramrod straight in her chair. Her looks suggest she is at odds with the room, like they do not deserve to be there as much as she does, what rights do they have. When the break comes and she stands to leave the room, her clothes give her away more. Clean and tidy, and carefully put together, but no brands are on show. When she returns, she perches on her seat and opens her lunch, the observer of her behaviour notes what it is and how she nibbles her food. It reminds the observer of a squirrel, holding a nut in both hands and carefully nibbling away.
