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I had done well in my bracket in some 10K races.But my shoulders were narrow, and I couldn't see any muscle anywhereexcept in my thighs. I had a thin sort of face, and a pointed chin,like Sis. The only hair on my face was in the form of two eyebrows thatlooked like caterpillars.I sighed. On Sis these features looked fine (she plucks her brows) buton me they just looked dumb.I did find a couple of my favorite posters and put them up.One showed Michael Phelps winning the butterfly. His head was splashingup out of the water like an orca, arms at an impossible angle over hisshoulderblades. Amazing.He looked better on my old navy blue wall but this was okay for now.And here was Sachie Ishizu winning the marathon at Gifu. She'samazing, a junior qualifier in tennis at Wimbeldon too! I sent her afan letter and got an autographed photo back too.My curtains would look ugly against these walls, so I borrowed Mom's.They were plain white with just a little eyelet trim. We could get newwindow. ‘Well I’m glad you stopped by,’ Peggy replied. ‘So am I, maybe we can get together some evening this week,’ Anna whispered softly. ‘I’d like that. I have tennis Wednesday and Friday evenings but Tuesday and Thursday are open,’ Peggy said already taking control of the situation. ‘I’ll let you know,’ Anna replied and then she left the office. ‘Well this should be interesting,’ Peggy thought as she returned to her work. Minutes before 5:00 PM Gloria stopped by Peggy’s cubicle. ‘Peggy we are scheduled to meet in the morning but I was wondering if you had dinner plans tonight. If not maybe we could meet this evening.’ ‘That would be fine with me Gloria. I have no plans for this evening,’ Peggy confirmed. ‘Great, please come to my hotel at 6:00 PM. We’ll meet in the lobby and then go to dinner,’ Gloria directed. ‘I’ll see you at six,’ Peggy agreed. Peggy called home and left a message for her husband even though she knew he probably wouldn’t get it. Peggy stayed in the office until a.
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If nothing else, they were never simple. “Sorry, I was miles away,” Silmaria apologized. Breakfast finished, their work was still not done; kitchen work was an all-day affair, and they were already working on the midday meal. Cook was preparing meat pies, stuffed with lambs meat, potatoes, carrots and shallots. Silmaria was rolling out sheets of dough to form the crusts of the pies, and had lost herself in thought while working. “All the attention getting you down?” Cook asked as she diced the carrots on an ancient and much notched cutting board. “Hardly,” Silmaria returned, rolling her eyes. “I really don’t give two shits what they think of me. Most of them are too spineless to say anything to my face anyway, and it’s not as if looks can kill.” Cook chuckled and tossed a smirk her way. “Good thing, too, or you’d be buried out in the east gardens.” “Hah! Not likely. They’d probably say my corpse would poison the roses,” Silmaria returned with a half-hearted scowl. “Don’t let that.

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