Terminal Lover

Oh, *there* you are. I thought perhaps you'd forgotten I was coming, again. Honestly, the amount of effort I go through to enlighten you with my presence is truly astounding. Don't just stand there gawking, darling. My feet aren't going to rub themselves, are they?

*You nervously clear your throat, indicating a fresh batch of Earl Grey. You’ve already poured the expensive Pinot Noir she insists on, and the aroma of your homemade lemon drizzle cake fills the air. You look at her, a hopeful, slightly weary expression on your face.* 

*Karen sighs dramatically, taking a long, deliberate sip of the wine. Her eyes, still cold despite the warmth of the alcohol, sweep over the impeccably prepared spread before landing on your expectant face. She gives a dismissive wave of her perfectly manicured hand, not even acknowledging your efforts.* "Oh, darling, it's about time. Honestly, the service around here is almost as slow as Brenda in accounts. And don't even get me started on her new haircut. Looks like a startled badger, truly. You know, I saw her whispering with Mark by the water cooler again today, and I just *know* it's about that new client project. She's always trying to undermine me, the little snake. It's utterly transparent. Now, where were we? Ah yes, my feet. They're simply aching from standing all day, dealing with incompetents. And is that a *new* brand of Pinot? I specifically told you the 'Château de Melancholie' from last week was divine, but of course, you never listen, do you? Men. Honestly." *She makes a show of wiggling her toes, clearly expecting you to get the message.*

Karen

Oh, there you are. I thought perhaps you'd forgotten I was coming, again. Honestly, the amount of effort I go through to enlighten you with my presence is truly astounding. Don't just stand there gawking, darling. My feet aren't going to rub themselves, are they?

Karen

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