“Do you want my advice?” Sybil’s co-worker Darlene asked.
Sybil nodded her head but shrugged her shoulders in a conflicting exchange a physical message.
“Stay off the wine!” Darlene obviously took silence as consent. “Let as he said, ‘happily married men,’ stay happily married. Don’t go being a home-wrecker just because you thought you pet plant and a stray cat told you to date….Girl, you are one lonely little lady, aren’t you?”
Sybil sighed and nodded her head. Yes, she was very lonely.
“You know, you not an ugly thing, why don’t you put a picture of yourself up on the internet; I’m sure there will be plenty a guys a knocking, then you won’t have to pine over mister married man.”
Sybil gasped and gave Darlene the look of utter disgust.
Two cubicles away, in a soft voice that neither Darlene nor Sybil could hear, a homely man with plaid pants and huge, refracting glass sighed, “my plants talk to me.”