Inside My Head

the literary rantings of Angie Frissore


The morning of the vendor expo started smoothly – signage and tables had been set up the prior evening, and I sat at the registration table, gently arranging dozens of name tags and waiting for the attendees to arrive.

Once the expo got started, there wasn’t much for me to do aside from sit in the main room and get some work done on my laptop.  Everyone was scattered into various conference rooms as the various Asian vendors made elaborate presentations in hopes to sell their product to our buyers.  I made camp in a corner of the main conference room, which had been set up for breakfast, and got to work, happily munching on the last of the once-fresh croissants which had been provided.

How’s it going over there? Samantha asked in a mid-morning email.  She had been decidedly jealous over the fact that I was not going to be in the office.

So far so good
, I emailed back.  But it’s boring as hell during the meetings.

The various buyers and other staff floated in and out of the main room, as the first round of vendor meetings wrapped up.  I did my part to ensure that people knew where they had to be, and more importantly, got there without delaying the next meetings.

Once things were under control, I sat back down at my laptop, opened up an instant messenger program, and surfed the web for awhile.  About a half an hour later, a notification popped up that I had not seen in over a year.

n350z1975 is now on-line.

I swallowed hard as my heart began to pound.  The Face had not been seen on messenger since I had opted out of pursuing him, and suddenly, here he was at my fingertips.  I struggled with what to do next before taking a deep breath and launching an instant message.

I’m sorry for the way things worked out.  Hope you are doing well.

Quite nervous to witness the fallout of my actions, I closed the messenger program and tried to focus on work.  I sat, staring at the manufacturing database on my screen for a good ten minutes, before realizing that there was no way I was going to be productive.  I opened the messenger program again.

Oh my god, Abby? How are you? Where did you go?

My message had been well-received, causing me to breath a huge sigh of relief.  We chatted for the remainder of the afternoon, taking the occasional break here and there to check on my vendors and tend to my expo duties.  Before I headed into the day’s wrap-up meeting, we agreed that he’d call me that evening.  I didn’t have a whole lot of time to come up with a good answer to the impending question I knew I’d be faced with:  why did I walk away?


November 9, 2008 - Posted by | No Messages - Excerpts from the Draft | , ,

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