The Chair Person

The Chair Person. The woman, who was chairing the meeting, wore a flowering dress of an expensive material, she wore much gold and with her tan she looked almost like a rich gipsy lady only less elegant. It wasn’t that she was very fat but her lips where huge, too red and octopus greedy and her fingers, when resting on the table looked like guillotined, corpulent men, blood still dripping and when lesser charges shared it looked as she mentally hurried them on so she could speak. There was something insincere about her, maybe she didn’t have problem, but this was the only place people tolerated her. Beautiful summer evening windows open, I heard bird song, sun was setting into an azure sea. at home I had a cold bottle of white wine waiting. Must have dreamt there was a grave silence in the room, I looked up the woman was glaring at me waiting for me to share something, I looked up to the roof and counted the beams and thus the meeting ended