Ms. Webber

Another day, another meeting. The students had long left and you have since finished grading your papers. You stand in the office, making copies, and you glance towards her window. The lights are on. It isn't every day that she is here this late. Maybe you can think of an excuse to go talk to her.

You can see it: you bring some trivial thing to her, she smiles that half-smile. She is tired and takes her hair down from the loose ponytail. Her yes sparkle as she twists her blonde locks through her hand, letting the waves fall over her shoulder. She sighs and leans in, moving her chair towards you. She is so close now, close enough to touch, certainly, when she leans across you to take the paper you have brought. It's really nothing important, but the way her fingertips linger on yours make you believe that it is the most important thing in the world. You let her take it, for even the most innocent of contact cease, and settle back in your chair.

But she doesn't move away. Her hair falls, brushes against your shoulder. She is so close now, you can feel her breath on your cheek.

The beeping of the copier interrupts your thoughts. You glance again at the window to her office. Still there.

Maybe it doesn't have to only be a fantasy tonight.