Sunday

Do You Think It Matters How I Rub It? (6/28/08 Saturday)^

With time together neither at the desk nor in the workroom, Julie and I were rarely in the same place together all day. Not even the same lunch hour. But I didn't avoid her or studiously or (in any other way) ignore her. I gave her a bright "Good morning!" when she came in. At the turning of an hour late in the day, Julie, as we all do, checked the schedule for the next hour's duty. Upon finding she was to be on the window and, turning to it and seeing no one there, she asked, "Who am I replacing?" and consulted the schedule again. I was sorting a cart. "Dion," she said. I'd already looked up upon hearing her voice, and when she scanned the workroom our eyes met. I don't know which of us smiled first, but mine was an unabashed beam, I'm sure, and hers nearly did me in. I'm trying hard not to wishfully see what's not there, but it's become harder since then.

^It's embarrassing to have read so much hope into a smile. It's embarrassing to have been so hopeful in the first place. The joke was always on me.

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