She watches as he prepares to leave for the day. Post-it notes sorted by topic, then size and color. Extraneous papers filed in folders that are stacked alphabetically. To-do list positioned dead center on the desk. The binder goes with him, of course.
The ritual is the same. Every day, of every week, of every year she's known him.
She's always had the urge to reach across and mess up the precise order of his desk.
Lately the urge is to grab his silk tie and pull him into a kiss and mess up the precise order of his life.