Tricia recalled that day. She had completed her phone call, took a breath, then returned to her office. Ollie was standing there.
Her eyes dragged over the flab, the short hair, the ignorable presence.
As she stood, calm and open, secretly, she gave thanks she had left him when she did. Left before he lost his looks, his charm…
And then, in typical Ollie style, he slapped a smirk on his face as his eyes crawled around, as if pricing the furniture and finding it shoddy.
He stood there, trying to radiate a sense of distaste, denigration, of her, of her office, as if there was nothing here to be proud of.
His performance fell flat.
Ollie was no longer that beautiful man who strode the world as a colossus, but a non-descript ignorable, nobody.