Any Excuse
I can see him sitting there. So solemn, so focused on his work. Or maybe his mind is wandering behind the stoic mask. What could he be thinking about? Some part of me deep inside hopes it's me. But I know this isn't true. He's a busy man, too wrapped up in his own concerns to ever spare a though for me. I feel my heart sink at the realization.
I'm not the slightest bit thirsty, but I stand up and cross the room to this morning's lukewarm coffee. I tell myself to keep my eyes averted, but they betray my orders and sneak a glance at him. He doesn't look up from his desk. He never does. Slowly I make my way back to my seat. There I continue to stare at him from over the rim of my cup. The coffee tastes stale, and bitter, but it provides me with a legitimate reason to walk past him again as I go to refill the mug. I'm always looking for the most trivial excuse to be near him.
This time as I walk by, our eyes meet for a moment. The moment slows and stretches into an eternity. Then he looks away, and it passes. Repressing a sigh, I refill the mug only halfway this time, then turn to go back to my desk.
"Robin," he says in his usual gruff voice, startling me and making me stop abruptly. I look at him quizically, not sure what to say.
"Stop pacing around and get to work…all that caffeine isn't good for you." Is that the hint of a wry smile I see on his lips? Perhaps I'm imagining things. The only time he ever speaks to me is to give me an order or a reprimand.
But for now, I'll take what I can get.