Lynne nodded when he mentioned that writing was his passion and he couldn't imagine doing anything else. "I know the feeling," she agreed. "Although I'm not sure, you know, being a hairdresser is, like, up there with writing for the New York Post, but...I know what you mean about not being able to see yourself doing anything else."
"I thought it sounded English, but I can't ever differentiate; I'm horrible at that," she laughed, giving him a sheepish grin. "Do you miss it? Home?" she asked. After a short pause, though, she held up a hand and shook her head. "You know what? So not my business. Sorry, sometimes I get a little too curious for my own good and I step on toes unintentionally that way," she explained.
She had to admit to herself that she was a bit jealous that his job allowed him to travel. The furthest she'd ever gone for her job was the IBS in New York City and that was the same vendors every year. Nothing interesting or new after the first go 'round.