You do not love him. You love not being on the floor for five minutes. Attraction at work is often just nicer office lighting really.
Tag: work
Three alarms, two hairdryers, one narrow corridor. I am not asking for a convent. I am asking not to start work already fully irritated today.
It was one box. It was mine. I would have said yes if you asked. Instead I come home hungry and start a proper grudge.
Nice is manners in public. Kind is what he does when nobody is watching and you need a lift, not just some cheap little compliment.
No name talk. No job talk. No story about the week. Just a dark room and a warm body that does not need a biography.
I stand there doing maths like it is romance. London will charge you for lunch and still call it a deal. I laugh. I pay.
Bags by the door, uniform waiting, that low familiar dread. Even if the weekend was messy, the Monday reset feels like being marched straight back.
Daytime me budgets and makes plans. Night me wants a mouth on mine and no chat about next week. Lighting does half the actual lying.
Good coat, dead eyes, phone already out. I do it too. The city rewards looking sorted. It never even asks if you even slept tonight.
Nobody believes us, least of all ourselves. Quick ones turn into last trains and a messy little story I will edit at work Monday morning.