Wednesday, August 20, 2009

M. crawls under her desk. I watch her for several minutes sprawled on the floor, going deep to the back of her cubicle wall. After awhile, her head pokes out and notices me watching her. She fakes an embarrassed expression like she's been caught doing something naughty and waits for me to say something.

Me: "What are you doing?"

M: "I'm looking for my extension cord thingy. And I dropped the lid to my water bottle."

Later in the day, our team eats sandwiches from a local grocery store. I accidentally drop the lid to the jar of pickles on the floor. Before I can pick it up, M. jumps to her feet and kicks it down the aisle, Pele-style. Her fancy footwork is impressive as she bobs and weaves in front of me, criss-crossing her legs, daring me to make a move.

I simply wait for her to finish.

She scuttles the lid down the aisle. "I don't think you want to put this back on the jar," she says, ricocheting the lid off the floor and drop-kicking it in my direction. "There you go."

I pick the lid off the floor, replace it on top of the empty pickle jar toss it in the trash.

"Nice moves," I say.

In response, M. scrunches up her lips and makes a noise like she is constipated. "Mmmmmmmh!"


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