"True. With Chairman Henson's temper, the guy's lucky he's even allowed inside the building."
"I heard he's been with the Henson family for seven years and ranks lower than the family dog."
"If it were me, I'd have filed for divorce ages ago. But we all know what he's really after, don't we?"
They walked off still talking, never once acknowledging me.
I brought the cigarette to my lips, took a drag, and leaned against the wall. Didn't move.
This wasn't the first time I'd heard talk like that. Sometimes to my face, sometimes behind my back.
The first couple of years, hearing it made my chest tighten. My face would burn. I wouldn't know what to do with my hands.
Then, gradually, I got used to it. I'd just smile it off.
After a while, I couldn't even be bothered to smile.
Now when I heard it, I felt nothing at all.
I looked up toward the window at the end of the hallway. Beyond the glass stood the row of new factory buildings in the development zone. The Henson Group logo crowned one of them, white letters on a blue background.
Seven years ago, when I married into the family, every single Henson looked down on me.