Word had got out about Sacha leaving, and though nobody in the office was yet aware of how long she'd be gone - it was months away, Sacha assured herself, she could drop that bomb at a later date and make her remaining time in the office less uncomfortable that way and still give them plenty of notice - the mere fact that she was going overseas at all was enough to see her receiving constant comments.

"Oh, you're so lucky!" she was told, over and over; or: "I'm so jealous!" They were complements of sorts, they felt like complements, and Sacha had always received complements with some difficulty so the prospect, every day, of going into work and being bombarded with another round of such approval and admiration was wearing. It was getting her down. She found herself dreading it.

At least she could seclude herself away at her desk most of the time. At the weekly morning teas, though, everybody was gathered together, and it was impossible to avoid people, and she had to talk to people. There was no choice: people kept on coming up and talking to her, and asking her how she was, and if they already knew about her travel plans they'd ask about that and if they didn't know then Sacha would find herself compelled to tell them, because really it was the only thing she had to talk about at the moment, and then they'd be away. They'd be jealous. She'd be lucky. It'd all start all over again.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad this week, at this week's morning tea. She had a bunch of brownies that she'd baked, it being her turn to provide the food. She could talk about them, instead: offering the recipe, giving tips, taking complements. Always more complements. Sacha wondered whether the currency of human civility was being slowly degraded by people's relentless willingness to offer praise at the slightest achievement or demonstration of competence. She herself rarely strayed further than a simple "That's nice" or "Well done", and if people always looked slightly disappointed then as far as Sacha was concerned that wasn't her fault. The world had given them false expectations and Sacha refused to meet them.

She had no doubt that her brownies, which she was happily certain were adequate at best, would be greeted as "amazing" and "beautiful". It was all a bit ridiculous.