Indistinctism

Stella knocked on her boss's open door while saying, “Good morning. Got a moment?”

“Sure thing.” Randall turned from his computer to face her. “What's on your mind?”

“It's the conference in Boston,” Stella said. “For the last decade, six people from our team attended. Mark retired, Toby got that promotion—”

“Good for them,” Randall interrupted.

“Absolutely!” Stella agreed. “So happy for them and Vincent. I’m sure he’ll thrive at Stintson. I’m just confused why, now that we’re down to six people, we aren’t all attending.”

A flash of something passed over Randall’s face. The widened eyes of fear? He quickly schooled his expression into oily sympathy. “I would have sent you if it were up to me. Sadly, it was decided that we would only send five.”

“Why?”

Tension lumped in her throat as Randall’s eyes flicked down at her body and back up to her eyes. Could this decision have something to do with her breasts? Her melanin? The expense of gluten free meals for attendees with celiac disease?

“I do wish I could understand other people’s motivations,” Randall said.

Stella refrained from saying a version of “same” that included some office-inappropriate phrases.

“All I can say is that we’re stuck sending five this year.”

Stella thanked Randall for his time and returned to her desk. She never did know if “all he could say” meant all he knew, or all he could disclose without potential legal consequences.