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In 2010, I wrote this portion of a Valentine Story in collaboration with a group of other writers. The story eventually takes a grisly turn as it was left to others to finish. But this time, I want to finish the story myself. Let me know what you think… Do you picture Maggie as above? Suggestions are welcome.

“Damn it!” cried out Maggie Anderson. “I can’t believe he decides at the last minute that he can’t be bothered to wear a suit so I have to go alone.” Biting her lip, she pulls down her brown furry hat over her ears, giving her the extra warmth to protect her from the Manhattan wind. The clicking of her stiletto Cole Haans on the concrete pavement quickened as her ire increased. Maggie always hated walking along Lexington Avenue. The stores were not as nice and this long avenue always appeared more desolate than Park or Madison. “Why didn’t I just hail a cab?” she thought.

She could have gotten a cab quite easily; her green eyes set on her alabaster skin contrasted by her fiery red hair never failed to get attention in a crowd. And today with her stilettos, her legs appeared even more shapely and longer than usual. But tonight she was oblivious to the once-overs.

Maggie always made it a point to go the Addison Christmas party. She’s been going for the last five years. She thought by going, she might appear as a good worker to her superiors and she didn’t mind mingling with the ad execs. Since Addison on Madison Avenue was a division of a London office, many of the staff members were British. “Why does one speaking with a British accent always seem so much smarter and sophisticated than those who don’t have one?” she wondered as she continued her march. They were always so well-mannered. Holding the doors for her and helping her with her coat when she had to leave the office. And they never treated her as an underling even though her role was primarily secretarial.

“Turtle Bay – How much do you have to make to live in this community? I don’t think I will be living here anytime soon.” Maggie sighed It was only 5:00 pm, and already it was pitch black. Some of the lights in the fancy apartments were on already. As her eyes scaled up some of the high rises, she noticed the penthouses were lit as well. “I guess there should be some parties on a Friday night so close to Christmas.” Briefly her thoughts went to Sam. She was still pretty sore at him, but wondered what he might be doing at home. He might be watching hockey or reading.

When she finally arrived at the United Nations, there was the usual security check. She noticed some of her co-workers being checked as well. Two female workers were chattering about Frank McGarry and Cathy Tom. It was well known they were having an affair, but they always continued to meet each other outside. Around lunch time, Cathy would leave the office first then about ten minutes later, Frank would follow. What a charade! But because they were both so nice, nobody could say anything mean about them. The two ladies were wondering when they were finally going to get married. As if that was any of their business.

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