The love letter

Her fingers danced gaily over the keys as she considered how this declaration of devotion will be received. You see, they exchanged glances, shyly peering over their coffee, three weeks in a row. Her plan--or at least the one she fantasized about at her desk the day before, while the phone rang and work piled up--was to finish her coffee before he finishes his and casually drop the letter on his table as she exits the aromatic shop.

The shop she has sat in every morning before work over the past 10 years drinking her espresso and reading her dime store novels. The shop he has frequented every Tuesday without fail for the past year. That's the kind of reliability she admires. That's husband material.

This letter must be perfect. She even picked out a delicate, but legible, font to print on the rose-colored paper. She sprayed it with her perfume the day before--so it can dry and not smudge the ink, of course. She coyly grins at her attention to detail.

After a few hours of typing, editing, and typing some more, she sits back to read the final draft. It's perfect!

Print.

Network error.

What? Network error? Ugh. Tuesday is tomorrow. This MUST be printed today.

She sends a work ticket to IT.

Boodleybink.

A reply! Wow, that was quick. She excitedly opens the email to find, "The IT department is closed due to a personal emergency. We will reopen tomorrow afternoon. We're sorry for the inconvenience."

Defeat fills her with rage. She can feel the tears well up behind her eyes. It takes everything in her to hold them back. One lets loose. She composes herself, wiping the salty wet trail from her face. A deep breath fills her lungs. Exhale. Ok. Get it together, Margaret. This isn't insurmountable.

She tries again, just to be sure, the same error message pops up. Network error.

Can I email? She quickly sends an email to her coworker in the neighboring cubicle, then casually walks over to his desk. He confirms email receipt. Ok. So, it's the printer. She asks him to print anything in hopes that his computer isn't also having the same issues. He acquiesces. No network errors. So, it's not the printer. Hrmm. His computer and the printer are friends today, unlike HER computer. She imagines her computer and the printer standing in a huff, backs to each other, obstinately refusing to acknowledge the other. She giggles to herself.

She hurries to her computer to put her letter on a thumb drive. She has to figure out how to print this from her coworker's computer without him seeing it. No one is to know of her pining; Her wistful fancies.

Returning to her coworker's desk, she grasps the thumb drive tightly. Dread fills her as her anxiety whispers in her ear her greatest fears. He's gonna see it. He's not going to let you sit down at HIS computer. The entire office will know about your love life and how pathetic it is. She dismisses the terrified voice in her head. Swallows hard and says, "Hey, Eric, do you think I can use your computer to print this?" She holds up the thumb drive eagerly. He gestures at his computer as he pushes his chair away from the desk. Oh, that's a definite yes, and he's letting me drive, too. A feeling of surprised relief fills her, hope returns. She contains her giddiness as she approaches the computer. As soon as her back is to him and she's certain he can't see her face, she flashes the biggest Cheshire grin.

An email notification pops up on the screen. Eric digs his heels into the low pile grey carpet to propel himself forward. "Oh! I've been waiting for that email! Can you hold on? I need to answer this before 10. It'll 0nly take a few minutes. Then it's all yours." He smiles wryly. She glances at the clock. It's 9:55 am.

"Sure," she says confidently, backing away from the desk. This can't possibly take longer than a few minutes. "Let me know when you're done." Dread knocks, returning her to panic once more. Margaret, it's fine. As long as it's done before the end of the workday, it'll be just fine. She inhales deeply and drifts over to her desk to plop down in her chair and wait. She will just have to be patient. Not one of her virtues.

It's 11 am. She waits.

Lunchtime comes, and she sits at her desk absentmindedly chewing her sandwich. Bite by bite. Eric pops around the corner of her cubicle wall, startling her mid-bite. She chokes on her sandwich, composes herself, and says, "oh, are you done? Can I use your computer now?" He smiles to confirm and adds a thumbs-up for good measure. It's happening!

She sits down at Eric's desk, checking to make sure he wasn't standing over her shoulder. He's gone. Nowhere to be seen. Good. She inserts the thumb drive. Ok, now where's that file? Ah, there it is. She double-clicks the file. Her desperate declaration of love and devotion animates onto the screen and covers it corner to corner. She feels her heart flutter as she moves the mouse to the menu. She selects print. She's smiling, excited. The print dialog box pops up on the screen. She eagerly nudges the arrow to the "print now" button, scanning the settings along the way. Dread fills her. I forgot to put the paper in the printer! What do I do? She swiftly closes the file, retrieves her thumb drive, and runs to her desk to find her special perfumed paper. She scans the office. It's practically empty. Oh good! No one is here.

The printer is against the wall, not far from Eric's cubicle. She walks her blush-colored perfumed paper, holding it gently between her nimble fingers, over to the printer. She opens the paper drawer, pauses, and decides against it. I have to use the special paper holder. She adjusts the external paper source slot and inserts the paper gently. Can't let it wrinkle. Satisfied, she rushes back to Eric's desk to find the screen is locked. NNNNOOOOOOO!!!

Rage fills her again. She frantically looks for Eric. He went to lunch. What did he say again? Why was I not paying attention? The color drains from her face as she realizes he went to lunch off campus. It'll be at least 30 mins until he gets back.