"He treated me so bad, for no reason, no reason at all." I handed her my handkerchief, and nodded my head.
"I can't believe he took the Lincoln, he knew I didn't like the Mercedes, he told everyone I didn't like two-doors and he bought it anyway!" I gave her my best sincere look of concern, I glanced over her head at the clock, I needed another 10 minutes to get to an hour.
"It's not like he couldn't share," she said, pouring herself another glass of Sherry.
"I agree, I really do, and that's why we need to go back to court." That's it in a nutshell.
She looked up, lids still damp with mascara, "Do you think? Do you really think so?"

This was the hard part of my job. This was where I earned my money. She was trying hard not to smile and get excited and I had to keep that straight face while she put her act together. It was harder for some people than others. The not-laughing part. The putting the act together came pretty easily, at least in my experience.

"Do you think he'll go for that? You know, the Judge?" There she goes, getting that sincere injured look to overshadow the greed and revenge smirk.. here it comes.. good.

Oh yes, I am sure, especially if we can schedule next month, new judge, she's a terrific lady.
Oops. Too much good news, she grins and spills her wine.. "Oh my!" "OH OH OH"
It's OK, I say, and throw my napkin at it. It soaks it up like a sponge.

How appropriate.

a Stand/alone/bitch nodeshell gift.

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