My Three O'Clock

I have no idea where this woman came from. I really have no control over where my dreams take me.

I was dreaming of being in an office, overlooking a large business through a massive panoramic window. Based on its location, high above the premises, I had to be the owner. Lucky me.

The secretary called on the intercom. My three o'clock had arrived, ten minutes early. Her name was Agneta Hansdottir. I told the secretary not to let her wait, but to see her in right away. I'd been waiting for her. Something about her being some sort of a graphic artist. I was hoping we would get to collaborate on a project.

She wandered into the office, and I'd never dreamed of anyone this tall or elegant before. She was a blonde, she had a kind of a swish when she walked, and her hands were long, thin and delicate. She herself was Amazonian in proportion, and someone as short as I would have had a good deal of difficulty in meeting her gaze unless I were standing on a chair or something.

I think she got the job. She had me at "hello."

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