‘This isn’t a meeting. this isn’t even coffee’ – he said, taking a large sip of coffee from his mug.
‘This is just a drop off”
She collects the words blankly, as if in slow motion. They pierce the barrier of feeling remotely significant.
She contemplates the words that are economical with the truth, as he wears out his smug smile.
‘Maybe’ she thinks to herself. ‘Maybe its time to run for your life’