stacy_esq (stacy_esq) wrote in plainsboro,

Date/Time: Monday, around 8:30 or 9 pm.
Location: Wherever Wilson's cellphone is. Phone conversation.
Open To: Wilson
Currently Involving: Stacy and Wilson
Warnings: None

Stacy was a master of avoidance. Not for the first time, and undoubtedly not for the last, she was staring at her computer screen long after most of the office had gone home. Not that she was getting much done, but the illusion of working made it easier to pretend everything was okay. Closing Microsoft Word, she leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily, eyes falling on the phone. Mark would be waiting, of course. Mark was always waiting. She should call and promise to be done soon. She should leave her desk, lock her office door, catch a cab to Penn Station and catch the next train home. If she called, Mark would wait up for her.

Resigned, Stacy reached for the phone and started to dial. She made it as far as the area code before hanging up again. Last week she'd promised their marriage counselor that she'd make an effort to work less, and she was in no mood to address that particular broken promise. Another hour in the office and Mark would give up and go to bed. The next few days she was scheduled to stay in Philadelphia for a conference, and if she put off going home for an hour, the late nights spent in the office might be forgotten by Friday night.

It was a pattern, although not a terribly comfortable one, and it could only last so long. She couldn't force herself to break it though, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. This of course, was a problem in it of itself. Equally problematic was the lack of people who seemed to get it.

Stacy could group her friends into three categories: single, happily married for twenty years or more, or divorced and not terribly sympathetic. None of them ever said anything that helped, and Stacy had the distinct feeling that most of them were getting sick of the sound of her voice. Paging absently through her rolodex, Stacy paused for a moment, hand hovering over the receiver.

Wilson didn't quite fit into any of her categories, and that was appealing.

She dialed quickly, leaning back in her chair and listening to the ringing phone.

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