A Mingled Yarn
“Very interesting point of view you added,” the panelist seated next to Sasha said, as the audience members streamed out of the ballroom in a rush—they were glad to have checked off the box beside ‘attend mind-numbing ethics CLE’ and eager to race back to their offices and make up the two hours of billable time before they vanished into the ether forever.
She smiled at her neighbor and discreetly scanned the program for his name to remind herself which one he was. Her four fellow panelists were a matched set—and Will would have fit right in—distinguished, white men, nearing the ends of their careers; tanned and fit from years of golfing and sailing; and wearing suits that whispered ‘money’ and highly polished shoes that echoed the phrase.
“It was my pleasure … Colin,” she said, raising her eyes from the pamphlet and nodding. She waited, but he made no move to leave. Their fellow panelists bobbed their heads goodbye and hurried off the stage.
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