James
I’m heading into Haswell Building. It’s only a minute or so to nine and the traffic’s heavy with the morning rush.
As I walk up the steps to the front door, a car squeals to a halt by me and Kirstie steps out, flushed and hurried. She leans back inside saying something to the driver….
Someone?
Not Ben….
…. and her blouse, whilst clean and tidy enough, has that not-quite-pressed look that suggests it’s the same one she was wearing yesterday.
I get a glimpse of a male face, good-looking in the ‘dark and handsome’ way, before the car pulls away.
Kirstie sees me coming up behind her and looks flustered. “Morning, Kirstie.”
“Morning, Mr Alexanders.”
In the elevator I ponder the girl I just left behind at the reception desk.
So, Ben’s latest is seeing someone else….
And he’s not
