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friday with her Nicole has brown eyes. Yes, she has brown eyes and I think that she knows that I adore her. No. I don't just adore her. Adore is too gentle and pleasant of a word and it doesn't cover everything. I want her. Lust pure and simple. Sometimes she avoids making eye contact, but when she does I can't pull away. Yes, that sounds utterly pathetic, but that is how I feel. Friday nights with her are a complete contrast to the rest of my work week. For nearly eight hours it is just the two of us alone in the room. Sometimes I try to stay on my side of the room, but as the night wears on I make my way over to where she sits and we talk. We have nothing in common. I'm thirty and I think that she might be twenty-one. She tells me about her seven month old son and I nod. It seems that he has two teeth now. Her nickname for him is Pumpkin or Punky. It depends on her mood. She never mentions the father. The two of them met here at work and now she seems to be drifting away from him. I don't pry. I don't ask. It isn't me. I just sit and listen to her talk. I know how to listen. She came back late from lunch and wanted me to cover for her when her boss asked her about it. I didn't know what to do and gave a vague answer to the question. Lying is not something that I do very well. For lunch she came back with a pasta salad. There were olives in it that she fed to me. I didn't eat them off of her fork that would have been too much. I find her playful and funny. Her self-destructive streak appeals to me even though I shouldn't let it, but I do. Somehow I truly believe that there is more to her than most people see or want to see in her. Of course she is Tracy and elements of other former girlfriends rolled together into one person, but she has no idea that this is how I see her.
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