Glaring

Now that she had left the job it was perfectly obvious that her two colleagues were having an affair. In the time that she was in post, it seems that her brain had shut down and had refused to process what was being paraded in front of her eyes and ears. The whispered words, the hush tones, the looks that would pass between them. She could never quite shake off the feeling that she had interrupted something private, something intimate time she walked into the office. She could never quite understand why she was never invited to the weekend parties, never have the offer of a morning drink extended to her, no interest was shown in anything she might have had to say or do. She now understood why the best tasks were shared out so unequally. She now understood why her ideas, initially dismissed would resurface in some other guise. She felt pushed out, excluded. And when the promotion came, not entirely out of the blue, she knew it was time to leave. She could no longer stay in their twisted little fiefdom.

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About Lioness

British-Nigerian doctor, wannabe writer and photographer
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