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East Meets East

Ingrid wore an elegant business ensemble with tasteful elements of black, grey and white. Her hair was perfectly styled, complementing her refined Chinese-Canadian features. Her voice was clear and refined, like Adrienne Clarkson.

Mary wore a dark blue satin dress, a little high, a little low, with all of the curves. Her wavy auburn tresses framed her large brown eyes and cascaded down her chest. She was an East Coast force of nature barely contained in the West Coast office ecosystem.

The slice of roast beef in her sandwich reminded Mary of a story. Mary always had stories.

“We were Newfy hillbillies, alright. There’s no denying it,” Mary announced.

“What do you mean?” Ingrid asked, with a hint of apprehension.

“One time we had tongue for dinner. My mudder was blind, so we had to scrape the grass of the tongue to eat it. It was a little burnt on one side too.”

Ingrid’s eyes widened.

“Now we were eating the tongue because my uncle’s cow got hit by lightening in the field next door. We suddenly had lots of beef to eat.”

Ingrid was reluctant to ask any questions.

Mary resumed eating her sandwich.

Later in the day another young woman was keeled over next to her desk , mascara streaming onto the floor with an ocean of tears from uncontrollable laughter.

“Stop! Somebody make her stop before I have an accident!”

Mary smiled and continued with her story.

Greg Dixon

February 12, 2013, revised February 12, 2013

From the Borrowed Stories Series

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