Nine to Five
The grey carpet and beige walls came to life when strewn with twinkling lights and cheap, plastic garland. The everyday office routine had been swapped with brightly colored sweater vests and spiked drinks to go around.
She had spent weeks looking forward to the event that most of her coworkers dreaded attending. While the rest were donning fake smiles and sparking mundane conversation, she couldn’t stop checking her watch. A particular junior salesman had yet to arrive. He sat across from her everyday. And everyday she’d send a smile his way, and he’d reciprocate. His eyes would soften, and her stomach would flit at the sight. Everyday she’d say something ridiculously cliche, such as the time she actually uttered “Nice weather we’ve been having.” And everyday, after he responded with a small laugh and something nice he would get right back to work. He was clearly a very busy man. And when she was sure he wasn’t looking, she’d put her head in her hands, as if to hide her flushed face.
Somebody from marketing began to ask her about her plans for the holidays, but she barely seemed to notice. Their discussion died quickly. Commotion elsewhere piqued her interest, as she turned her attention to the front door.
There he was, being greeted by others as he shed his coat and gloves. He made his way in, passing around friendly smiles and making himself a drink. She practiced her greeting over in her head. Her goal was cool and relaxed, without an inkling of disinterest. She hoped that tonight the pair would get to have a real conversation, getting to know each other. Maybe, he’d even notice how nice her smile was, or how her eyes lit up whenever he said something amusing.
He was very tall. Easily over six foot five, so naturally he drew the attention of others. He had handsome blue eyes and a kindness that was unmatched. She sat across from him everyday. As nervous as she was to come off as eager, little did she know that everyday he waited for her to smile at him; that smile made his entire morning. All he could do was give a dopey smile in return. Everyday he got frantic when she’d ask about something like the weather, for then he’d have to come up with a clever line to try and make her laugh. That laugh could melt ice caps. And after their routine interaction was over, he’d have to clear his throat and pretend to get back to work. If he didn’t start staring at his computer screen or shuffle through some stacks of paper, he would be much too transparent; his burning cheeks and delighted grin all too telling.