Maggie didn’t network. It was confusing to her, it felt exposing and it made her feel like she might as well open a vein and tell everyone to stick a finger in. Texts were quiet, intimate; but nothing beat talking face to face. Even if her eye contact was off, even if she didn’t smile full and bright unless a real joy was presented before her.
This wasn’t real joy- it was change, and Maggie hated change.
“Thank you, you didn’t need-“ she started, but she stopped. She closed her lips and looked at the chewed ends of her finger nails and knew she’d been about to lie. One of her few solaces was following the incense infused wisdom of her New Age mother. Lying had always been a no. Always. “Thank you for coming. Do you want something to eat?” she asked. Feeding people was comforting to Maggie, she knew how to default into a care giver. She could go back to old thoughts- Bishop was a man, of course he’d be hungry and of course she’d feed him and be concerned that he wasn’t being safe and that someone else would leave in a pine box that was out of stock.