She is sitting across the table in front of me playing with a big piece of meat. I think she is my age. She is charming with blond hair which has not seen a comb for a while. She has bushy eyebrows. I can help her to shape them; this is coming from an Iranian woman who has obsession with eyebrows. They might totally look fine to others but they are not up to my standard and I think it will change her look dramatically.
I am enjoying her company. She is easy to talk to, funny, and she is a good story teller. She said it was Monday because these things only happen on Mondays. My crush who was the nicest and most handsome guy ever came to our office areas with a cart. You know! Something like those wine carts. There was a huge piece of cake on the cart. We curiously asked him what the cake was for. He cheerfully said. Last weekend was his wedding. This was the leftover cake and he thought he should share it with some colleagues that probably he didn’t even know their names. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe he was married. Last time and the only time we talked (which by the way was great), we talked about the weather for 2 minutes. He never mentioned anything about being engaged. How could he do this to me? How my perfect guy could be married. Then, I picked the biggest piece of the cake, sat in the corner, and thought to myself: I am eating the 2 days old leftover wedding cake of my crush. My love life couldn’t get any more pathetic than this.
Then, she laughed at her story and we laughed with her.