Another Life

I told myself I was driving to the house for a work meeting. Turning down the tree lined drive in my little peugeot I took a sharp intake of breath and stared at the unbelievable driveway and the beautiful house it led to. I slowed the engine to a crawl and breathed in the balmy evening air, wondering what on earth I had done to warrant a meeting in these amazing surroundings. The house was built of Cotswold stone and exuded a sense of timeless elegance and prosperity. Pulling up to the front door, I noticed several other cars all of which put my practical little runaround to shame. I couldn't tell you the makes and models but both were sleek and looked like they cost a fortune. Swallowing, I glanced at myself in the car mirror and suddenly the skirt, top and jacket I'd decided were more than good enough for a meeting seemed careless and cheap. The lip gloss and moisturiser in leiu of makeup were inadequate and I wished I'd had the foresight to bring some dry shampoo to sort out my hair. "Too late now," I grumbled to myself and with a final deep breath I opened the door, grabbed my bag, stepped out of the car in my inelegant but comfy and practical flats and turned to face the front door.