He wants me, I can tell. But I’m too old for that stuff, right?
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I watch him during the day sometimes. I notice how he finds any little excuse to pass my desk. Any chance he can get, he’ll stop to ask me something, or tell me something. It’s always business related. He never asks me about what I did over the weekend, or if I’m seeing anyone. He never asks me anything that could be considered the least bit unprofessional.
It doesn’t change the fact that I can see the blush in his cheeks when he gets close. Or, how he stammers a bit when he talks. You can see in his eyes he’s been practicing so as not to get it wrong, but then he’s still unable to quite get it right.
I call him Howie when he walks by. It never fails to bring that flush. It’s a little bit of a game I play. I like the way he averts his eyes.
What monster names their child Howard in this day and age?
Sometimes, in the mornings, we end up riding the elevator together. He manages a stifled hello before staring straight ahead with the discipline of a soldier. I like to scoot just a little closer to him than necessary, just so he gets the slightest whiff of my perfume. I’d never admit it, but when I am readying myself in the morning and I lift the bottle, I…
