From Two Cubicles Over

Hello, my name is Bailey. Well, that is my surname. Truthfully, my name is unimportant. You may call me what you like. I know you and you know me. I know we pass each other from time to time picking up reports from the printer or getting coffee to wake up a bit during the midday slump. I know you like yours with two spoons of sugar and no milk. It is the perfect balance, something sweet on the tip of your tongue and something bitter that lies at the back of your throat and lasts all the day through. I know you suck and bite at your pen cap, legs crossed at your desk, leafing through stacks of paper with a furrowed brow and concentrated look. So engrossed in your work that you don’t notice me walk slowly past, hoping to illicit a hello, a smile, or a telling nod. I take my time, admiring your photos that were carefully organized on the desk. Your family is lovely. Your son has your eyes, and your husband has your hand. I can’t help but taste something bitter also.
I guess you can call me, lonely.

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