By Jason Geary

I walk past her cubicle on the way to the photocopy room, as I’ve done hundreds of times before. This time I find her looking at me, offering a smile. I walk slower on the way back, see her dart her eyes away as she notices my approach. That’s all it takes. Now I can’t concentrate. I feel a little giddy, and I’m making photocopies of everything I can find.

Her looks grow warmer every time I pass, as does the feeling in my stomach.