He checked the
time on the lower right corner of the computer screen. It was one-thirty in the
afternoon, and for whatever reason, she walked by the cubicle day at that time every
day. Today, she seemed to be late, and he was about to give up when he heard the
sound of feet brushing against carpet, coming closer and closer.
Suddenly, his midsection came to life like an aviary full of butterflies. He felt her presence. The scent of her luscious perfume filled his nose, his whole being. He closed his eyes tightly. She was like no other – languid, sophisticated, graceful. She turned easily like a sheer curtain disturbed and twisted by a sudden breeze. He knew he shouldn’t, but when the time came, he pushed his open palms against the edge of the table, and with one great push, shot backwards. The chair stopped at the edge of the cubicle.
Slowly, he leaned back, and cast a glance out beyond the
barrier. He felt his insides fall like someone who yearns for a sunset to last
for hours. Lusting, yet his throat constricted with the hard lump of falling in
love, he watched the back of her shoulders go back and forth in a tight, but
fluid 1-2-1-2 rhythm, the rest of her body following. Arms, back, hips, curvaceous
bottom, legs and feet, flowed into one smooth form that transfixed him even
after she disappeared out of view. It was only when a passing co-worker asked
if he was alright that he snapped out of his daydream. He replied that he was, and
he pedaled himself back to his desk.
