I boarded my husband's private jet and his secretary was in my seat, feeding him peeled orange. His mother told me to be considerate. I stepped off. Then the crew asked whether I wanted the flight cancelled.

Nine words and then eight. I have thought about them a great deal since.

They are good sentences. They are also, and this took me about four months to see, a woman declining to say the only true sentence available — which is that is my aircraft and she will move now.

I was proud of myself for that line for about six hours.

And I turned towards the door.

Nobody behind me asked him to reconsider. Not one of eleven people.

Two of them have worked with me directly. One of them has been to my house four times.

Not this is out of order. Not even Aurelio. Nothing, from the moment I stepped back to the moment the door was behind me, which was about eleven seconds.

I knew exactly how they would read it, and they read it that way, and two of them have since told me so to my face, which I respect.