May 27
“So what do you do when you’re not working,” I asked Sarah during a coffee break—not for the first time.
She smiled that smile at me, the one that made me melt inside. “I go home and watch TV,” she said. “I cook myself some dinner. I clean the house. Sometimes I sew.”
“You live alone?” I asked.
“I told you I do,” she replied. But she wasn’t annoyed. This was a game we’d played for weeks: I queried and she obfuscated.
“No boyfriend?” I asked.
“Do I look like I have a boyfriend?” she countered.
“You look like you should have a boyfriend,” I replied.
“And you want to apply for that position?” she jabbed.
I smiled and shrugged. I didn't dare say yes, though we both know I did.
“Let’s get back to work,” she said. “Our fifteen minutes is up.”
She went back to her cubicle, and I returned to mine, right next door. We though not officially a team, I regularly consulted her with questions about administration and accounting, and she often asked me questions about how the plant worked or about the products themselves.
I never enjoyed a job as much as this one—even though I missed being outdoors, and missed stretching my muscles. Now I understood why guys played football on the weekends, only I never learned how.
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