“All alone, aren’t you? No one to talk to, no one to play with. And it’s all your own fault.
Strange, sad little Eleanor. Too bright for your own good, aren’t you? You always were.
And yet... in so many ways, you’re incredibly, spectacularly stupid. You can’t see what’s right in front of your nose.
Or should I say who...”
She coughed again. I did not dare to breathe, waiting for what would come next.
“Oh, I’m so, so tired of talking. It’s your turn, Eleanor.
If you had even a modicum of social savoir-faire, you’d know that conversation is supposed to be a to-and-fro, a game of verbal tennis.
Don’t you remember me teaching you that? So, come on, tell me—what have you been doing this week?
I said nothing. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak.
“I must say,” she went on, “I was surprised when you told me you’d been promoted at work.
You’ve always been more of a follower than a leader, haven’t you, darling?”
Should I tell her that I’d been signed off sick? I had managed to avoid any talk of work recently, but she’d raised the topic now.
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