I’m just tired.”
“Why not go home and rest then?” she replied.
“Not tired like that. A wider sort of tired. A tired of life sort of tired.”
She took my hand across the table. I knew I could have kissed her if I’d wanted to. She looked at me for a while, all sweetness and blue eyes and red mouth. But I couldn’t kiss her. For the life of me I couldn’t kiss her.
“Is it work?” she said. “Are you working too hard? You ought to take a day off now and again if you’re feeling this way.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t want to discuss work. Discussing it tires me more than doing it. I hate the men I work with Genevieve. I hate my job. I don’t want to do it anymore.”
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