It’s been so long since I’ve had this kind of distraction.
I’ll be reviewing code Adam sent over and absently click over to my email to see if Veronica has sent anything. I’ll be making lunch and realize that I’m thinking of things I want to ask her. Is this normal? I don’t even know what she looks like, and I’m somehow getting all wrapped up in this email relationship in my head.
Time for a coffee break.
Jogging downstairs, I see a small cluster of people waiting at the mailboxes and see that it’s well after two with no Larry in sight. Kevin gives me awhat the hell is going onshrug, and I shrug back before heading across the street for my iced Americano.
When I return, most everyone has dispersed, but then the woman from the fourth floor emerges from the elevator. She stops when she sees me, breaking out into that gorgeous, wide smile.
“Hey.”
I lift my chin in greeting. “Hey. You get the box upstairs okay?”
“We did. Took us so long to build, it was like assembling it from individual atoms, but we managed it without having to call our dad to come help.”
“Always a victory.” I smile at her and watch as she begins to move toward the mailboxes. “No Larry yet.”
She turns, gaping at me. “What? Is he okay?”
This makes me laugh. “I have no idea. I assume he’s just taking a day off.”
“Does Larrydo that?”
I laugh again. She’s funny, pretty, playful ... I should see if she wants to grab a drink sometime. And then I remember something. “Was that your sister with you?”
She nods. “Yep.”
“Did she call me ‘Lava Lamp’?”
Her eyes fall closed and she groans. “Yes, she did.”
Grinning, I ask, “Why?”
“Because, according to her, you’re hot and mesmerizing.”
My head falls, chin to chest, and I feel my shoulders shake with silent laughter. “Okay, then.”
“Mortifying.”
I step closer, reaching my hand forward to introduce myself, when we’re both distracted by the arrival of the mail carrier.
It is not Larry.
It’s a woman, wearing headphones, snapping gum. She begins unloading the mail hurriedly, shoving it in a very un-Larry-like fashion into each box.
“Where’s Larry?” my pretty neighbor asks.
The mail lady looks up, tugging one headphone away from her ear. “What’s that?”
“Where is Larry?” Pretty Neighbor repeats. “Is he okay?”
“Oh.” A gum snap. “Yeah.” A shrug. “I think he’s just on vacation or something.”
Pretty Neighbor turns to me. “Turns out, you’re right. Larry is allowed to take vacation.”
“Good for Larry. This makes me feel about half a percent better about our government.”
She laughs and her eyes sparkle. They’re a mesmerizing mix of yellow, brown, green. It’s a color I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
