He entered and saw his wife’s new secretary. Their eyes met, and he might have lingered a little too long.
“Hi, I’m Thomas… McClintock. Amanda’s husband.”
“Nice to meet you, Thomas,” she replied, “I’m Jane.” She smiled a satisfied cat’s smile.
“It’s a pleasure. Is she in?”
“Yes, but she’s in a meeting, would you like to wait?”
He lingered again. “No, just give this to her,” he handed her an envelope. “Thanks,” and he stepped outside.
As he was driving down Lincoln Bridge he was thinking about the girl. She was young, probably her first job or almost. The eyes were still young and full of confidence that comes from mistakenly thinking we already know it all. The type of eyes that look wonderful when they close once ecstasy turns out to be greater than experienced ever before.
He pictured the girl getting on the train to get back home after work. He almost regretted not being young and poor and not taking the train too, so that he could run into her by chance and talk innocently, but with intentions.