Raining hard, and icy wind.
Walking in, my legs were completely empty as was my heart...my mind full to overflowing.
Mouth dry and a strained smile to those at the front.
Ushered into the room he'd reserved for me...
The first hug happened then...from the predecessors secretary...just noticed what the first part of that word actually says...secret...I smiled but distant.
Then I waited.
And waited.
And waited.

Handover one took place. Business no chat.
Then handover two...only young and she stared.

A cheery pop in from a friend who has supported throughout, different office, different department, different team...but she asked how I was and has delivered wine and flowers...it was more wine. Kind.

The solitary walk through the building and the response of others...getting up, coming out to see me, to talk, to console, to support.

Then, the heaviness, the hard and cold and unyielding silence and indifference from the team I belong to; the team I trusted; the team I inspired. I can feel myself being crushed inside as I walk past my previous domain. They've seen me...and
...nothing.

Silently bewildered yet still calm, still dignified, still confidently masked, I slip back to the room for handover three.

Smiling and masked also I suspect, bitch enters.
Complete business and nothing else.
Then..oh pop in for lunch...

They were all there, even Dram and Suss...
Sitting down...I waited
No eyecontact even....
No smile..
No conversation...
No introductions...
Falsity, irksome, exclusive chatter.

My dignity reminds me that I have my own place to go to today. My dignity reminds me that I don't have to watch this pathetic fawning charade over some inexperienced girl who has been helping them with staffing.

'I will see you in my room for our meeting C__ when you're ready.'
She's actually doing part of my job and seems nervous and defensive.
With that I walk out, back to the room.

She arrives...the same time as one of my advisors who gives me the closest most wonderful hug...she disappears. Yes, it should be you doing this, shouldn't it? So, looks like we've got a bitch senior and bitch junior.

She comes back...the final handover...takes place...almost...I have to wait a few weeks before regaining my complete postion...
Pure business...again...
Her language and demeanour is unprofessional, and god, she's put weight on...she's constantly shuffling frumpily under my suited and booted gaze...she's constantly fidgeting with her hair, her face, under my perfectly manicured gaze.

Walking out of the building, the irony is sweet. The coldness and emptiness of the shallow ones is delicately veiled as the person at the top, the very top is kind, genuine, gentle.

As the person at the top hugs me, asks yet again if there is more 'they' can do, then staying close... carries my bag to the car.