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The office was light and open compared to the claustrophobic feel of the bathroom. The ceilings were high and the natural light poured in through the windows on this crisp autumn day. Nadia headed back to her desk, staring at Alex as she did. He was staring intently at his monitor and tapping slowly and deliberately at his keyboard. She felt paranoid. Was everyone watching her? No, of course they weren’t. Did they know that she had just been fucked like a worthless whore in the bathroom? No, she didn’t think so. Did they know she had a.....No! Of course not!The rest of the morning passed by fairly uneventfully. Cara from accounts emerged from the bathroom all excited, explaining the damage done to the door. Jim from Real Estate Services came into the office and took the cubicle door off, explaining to the women in the office, perhaps unnecessarily, that the cubicle was now out of order. Nadia glanced across at Alex who was looking straight at her. She blushed and smiled at him,. The thirty-year old cursed at himself as he attempted to rise to his feet and failed miserably. On his second try, he was able to stand up, but his legs wouldn’t let him move.“DAMMIT! Why the Hell did I drink so much last night?” he asked himself as he wobbled his way to the bathroom.As he staggered through the hallway, he caught a whiff of the familiar scent of bacon frying in a pan. This didn’t strike him as odd until he stepped up to the toilet and started relieving himself.“Who the fuck is cooking?” he asked, turning towards the door as if the cook was right next to him. The sound of urine hitting the wall and floor refocused him.After cursing himself for making a mess, and then cursing some more while he cleaned it up, Mike went back to his room to throw on a pair of jeans so he could greet the mystery chef in his kitchen.“HEY! Who the Hell is in my God-damned kitchen? And why the Hell did you let me sleep in and miss work?” he shouted.He was greeted by the sight of a.
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If Jerry was here with her face so quickly going from excitement to sadness, he would have sketched her six times, and after discarding five of them, he would have painted the sixth one that he drew. If Jerry was here with her now, she wouldn’t feel so lost and so alone without having the comfort and fatherly wisdom of her friend. Now what? What the Hell is she doing in Boston alone? She doesn’t belong here. Where is she going to go? Where will she live? Even if she had a job, she can’t afford to live here. It’s way too expensive. After selling all of her possessions and giving up her apartment in Detroit, there was no way she was returning there. With all of him stuffed in a little plastic bag inside of a box, as soon as she accepted ownership of his ashes she started to cry. For such a great man, a man who made her feel good about herself, he was the first man who made her feel pretty instead of plain. As it turns out, she loved him not as a sexual lover but as her best friend. She.

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