Does she know that I dream about her every night of the week?
Elise walked coolly toward the file room, hips swaying to some unknown rhythm that I so desperately wanted to become part of. From behind my stack of papers in Accounting Department C, I watched her.
Everyday. 10:32am sharp. There she was appearing from those dull elevator doors to file Monty’s notes from the morning meetings. She was Monty’s assistant the rest of the time, but from 10:32 to 10:36, she was my pleasure for the day.
There was nothing else interesting about this office. What else was a man of my age to do? Stare at Wendy over in cube three who doesn’t even understand how a hair dryer works? Or try to make conversation with Phil in cube nine that spends most of his time looking up cats dressed in knitted sweaters? Or Fran in two that always wants tell you what little Maurice did at school today? Hell, there wasn’t even a window in Accounting Department C to look out. Not even a god-forsaken cloud could save me from the cesspool of boredom that creeped around this place.
But Elise, on the other hand, was some kind of shining star that just lit up the place. Everything else could be put behind me when she walked in. Her blonde curls bouncing around that elegant face, so perfectly manicured. Tailored dresses and skirts that were skin tight, but to the point that it was classy, none of that trash that other girls try to pull. Putting her in a room makes it tens time better.
No. A hundred times better.
She is what makes this place bearable. But then, just like them all, that light is swallowed by the ding of the elevator and the click of her hills tapping on its slated floors.
The room becomes darker again. The sound of monotonous clicking and buzzing phones reemerge, complementing the ever graying walls.