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yes, i am crushed to a fine, red powder

Lately, at work, I've taken to getting my tea on the 2nd floor, in a kitchen on the far side of the building, because it's yet another excuse to walk past her office. I'll pop in to talk with her. And when I talk with her, I feel like I'm driving a car fast along curvy mountain roads at night with the headlights off. And I'm totally unprepared but thrilled by the weird shifts our conversations take. And there arrives a moment where I'll think to myself, 'Wow, we've been talking about leprosy for the last fifteen minutes. How'd THAT happen?'. Or we'll be talking about books or films, and I'll wonder what it would be like to have her sitting on my lap, facing me, with her tongue in my mouth.

It's Friday now. I get to deliver mail to the 2nd floor today. And I'll pass her office. She'll probably leave early today. And I'll walk by there later in the afternoon, past her locked door and dark windows, and wonder where she'll be this weekend and who gets to spend time with her. And as great and horrible as the weekends are, I have a reason to look forward to Monday morning.

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