Being inspired, maybe – 10

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A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.  For instance:


And, then, the words:

I don't know what I was thinking.

 Office romances never fared well, not in the company I worked for, and only just last week one of the sales executives had to resign when his relationship with one of the Management team's personal assistants broke up badly.

 At least I'd not asked one of the personal assistants out, knowing they were way above my pay grade, just one of the stock clerks, a charming girl who had a sense of humor, and one I kept running into.

 Not deliberately, I swear.  It was just coincidental.  Part of my job was to keep going back and forth to the stock room.

 I asked her if she would like to have lunch at the Union Oyster House and she said yes.  We agreed to meet at the Parkman Bandstand at 12 noon.

 I arrived there at 5 to 12, trying to not look like I was over eager, but feeling exactly that.  I had sweaty palms, a sure sign of nervousness.

 I stood by one of the columns and waited.

 And waited.

 And waited. 

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