4338.209 · July 28, 2018 AD
I'm Only Forty-Seven
Two women sit in a sterile meeting room with different agendas. Sarah Lahey sees an opportunity to probe Louise Jeffries about her history with Karl. Louise sees ten years of suspicion finally reduced to ink—each sentence an admission, each date a failure documented for strangers to judge. When Sarah's questions push too far, Louise's rebuke is swift. By the time she signs her name, neither woman is quite who she was when she walked in.
Sarah thought she had a second chance. Alone with Louise in a sterile meeting room, she could recover the details that slipped past her during Karl's interview. Casual questions. Strategic conversation. The standard techniques for lowering a witness's guard.
But Louise Jeffries isn't a standard witness.
Each attempt at connection rebounds. Each conversational gambit exposes Sarah's true motive—not gathering facts, but satisfying curiosity about the unmistakable history between Louise and Karl. The connection she witnessed. The familiarity that excluded her.
When Sarah finally crosses the line, probing too openly about their shared past, Louise's rebuke is swift and devastating. The power dynamic inverts completely. Sarah isn't conducting an interview—she's being reminded of her place.
Professional humiliation in a windowless room. A lesson delivered without mercy: some witnesses don't need handling. They need respect.
