There is a gaggle of women down the hall. Determinedly segregated from my quiet corner. They all dress up to the nines, ten accessories each. They produce caravans of crockpots with disproportionate smugness. I am sure by now, week 3, I have been on one of the aisle meeting agendas. But just a tiny bit. I am so dowdy and quiet that I’ve managed so far to stay clear. They have positioned a scout tho. A planetary lady has intersected my path now, three times. It’s coming. She will appear, I am sure, to be amiable. In fact it is brilliant strategy to send her, the peripheral fashionista, but I know who she is. She is the emissary come for her tribute of scuttlebutt. This is her currency – what she brings to the congress and she will no doubt have an impressive extraction method. I will have to do the dance soon. The casual summary of personal data. Something she can offer up. What to go with? A casual allusion to a felony expunged? A cavalier reference to voices in my head? One of these times.