Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Pumpkin Spice Season

Here's the story where it all got started:

Corn Maze
Hot Chocolate

I swear, one more mention of pumpkin spice anything and I will lose my mind.
          I tap my keyboard and stare at my co-worker Jane as she swirls her Starbucks cup. She's more in love with pumpkin than with her husband I think. I hate this time of year.Leaves! Sweaters! Fires! Snuggling! Perfect for cute girls who have some hottie to snuggle with, and who can wear leggings with boots and have it not look like they need surgical tools to extract their flesh from them later. I look down at my cotton pants (with a hint of spandex, thank God) and sigh. Even if I liked pumpkin, how many calories are in those things? Probably just as many as my Saturday hot chocolate splurge (made with real milk and probably what amounts to a week's pay in Ghiradelli). Heaven help me, I need a life.
          I jump at my name and nearly knock over my (still full) water bottle. Dean stands in my doorway and I'm sure what I have is a deer-in-the-headlights look on my face. Because of course my boss catches me daydreaming and not working. I plaster a smile on my face. "Yes?"
          Dean ambles over and leans against my desk, as if whatever he has to say is not insignificant but not urgent either. Figuring out Dean is like navigating a corn maze; seemingly simple, but harder than one would think. On one hand, he's Mr. Boss. Has it all together. Good at his job. On the other hand: his wardrobe. I glimpse now at hischeckerboard Vans and wonder if they're against company dress code. He looks like a college kid, and not like he's thirty.
          "Working hard?" he asks me.
          "Or hardly working," I quip.
          He smiles at me. "You got any plans for this weekend?"
          As if. "Sadly, no."
          He glances at the mile high stack of papers on my desk and then back at me. "You want some?" Before I can even begin to wonder how to respond he speaks again. "I just poured over the company manual and interestingly enough, me taking you out doesn't violate anything." His brown eyes linger on my face and that is the only thing keeping me from peeing my pants. "Well," he says. "What do you say?"

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