Her escape fantasies intensified:
New job? Why not a new profession. Or she strikes it just right somewhere with a combo hardware store / bakery that also sells industrial art in the corners. Specifically: Dirt would form in permanent half moons under her nails and her cakes would be slices of pure comfort on a plate.
New house, maybe. Better: new town, in a different state – or maybe a different continent. One with no people….where the news was really just about the ever-changing weather which she also tried to capture in photographs.
To keep herself in her seat, she would tell herself that “new” could also just mean different feelings of failure and inadequacy.
And when that started sounding just fine, she would know she was truly in trouble.