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Eve's Dropping

I had just walked in and occupied the seat vacated by the celebrity’s wife. It was a usual table one would find at any airport lounge with four chairs around it. Its sole occupant was a well dressed lady, probably in her early thirties, or maybe late twenties, long haired and attractive. She sat on the chair with her back to the wall as she directly faced the entrance to the lounge.

Having asked for a cup of tea, from the 'not so ready to serve' lounge attendant, I flipped open my phone to send off a few text messages on my impending arrival status to Bombay. My co-inhabitant in the meanwhile, as I noticed from the corner of my eye, was dialing on her phone and her eyes lit up in a mischievous twinkle when she poured in to the phone " Guess who was just sitting with me. ............I am sure even he must be here somewhere".

I lost out on the rest of the conversation with my tea having arrived and realizing that I needed to concentrate more on the announcements for security check. The tea served was, the now common ready mix tea commonly known as machine wali chai , a little too sweet for my liking, but warm enough for me to continue sipping at it. I thanked the attendant for his service as he picked up plates and cups left behind by the previous occupants of this table. "All we need is extra staff today" he whined. He looked overworked, like most of his ilk, wearing a pretentious look of being under rewarded and over burdened.

In walks another lady, accoutred similarly to my co - inhabitant walk and very purposefully tells the other -"He is at the Duty Manager's desk".
Lady I : "Am sure he does, but what's wrong with his wife.She looks like a dilapidated Bombay building."
Pretty Face II : " He should have had one of us as his wife - we would have kept in step with him".

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