my cute co-worker
is so damn cute. sometimes he comes over to my cube and taps the glass and leans over it to talk to me so his arms are dangling over the top. we went out for drinks and he smoked and leaned back in his chair, slouching, looking out at me. he cracked jokes and talked about books. he smiled with his head cocked to one side. i like a cute, smart boy with confidence.

we take the same subway line to work each day. he takes it downtown, i take it uptown. in the morning i catch him crossing at the corner, wrapped in a scarf and hat, peeking out at me, giving me a little wave.

the words "can you come by my office for a minute?" are music to my ears.

the e-mail messages that say "great article!" are food for my ego.

he stops me at the coffee machine and talks about his family. he's been all over the world. i think i could listen to him tell stories for hours, and i would never feel that familiar wrench of disappointment, of anger, that this person is not like me after all.

i suppose anything that brightens up my otherwise dreary work days is a good thing. and you better believe that i am gung-ho about that company trip for a chance to sit outside at night, and perhaps a chance to tell him some stories of my own.


Tuesday, January 4, 2000


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