The window

Walter stands tall, solid, dependable. No spreadsheets. No droning monologues. Just brick. Strong, immovable… and for some reason, maybe shirtless. You blink. Wait, what?

Your mind takes the plunge without permission. Walter, the steadfast wall, becomes something else entirely. Something… no, someone. A stoic, broad-shouldered figure who’d never waste your time with an endless back-and-forth about… forms.

Maybe a little back and forth. About… forms.. strong… well-shaped… powerful… musky and manly…

‘Melinda, can you focus?’” You snap out of it, realizing you’ve been staring dreamily at the wall like it owes you flowers.

You shudder inwardly. You can feel a little moisture where no one in the office gets to look. Huh. Ah well, even a police dog wouldn’t detect that smell among the many other pungent smells, from old tobacco smoke to the distinctly unpleasant odor of whatever detergent the third rate cleaning company the boss hired uses.