Monday, November 12, 2012

I get flustered easily.

Today I received a love letter at work. Though this sounds like things can get potentially romantic, this story ends with a cold sweat and a knot in my throat, rather than butterflies in my stomach.

It reads:

Hi Carolyn, How would you like to
discuss Haruki Murakami's novels together? Over some tea.
Come 'on say "Yes!"
What do you have to lose?
It'll be fun to talk about
his writings
My #is (---) --------
           John PACKARD

It's clumsy, kind of cute. But in that moment I could only stare at the middle-aged man with frightened eyes. Really, John should know that peering into my face and whispering "Say yes! I like you!" as I ring you up at the register is incredibly creepy. Also, he should know that what I have to lose is my precious time. My time is fucking precious.

The worst of the Monday Blues is over. Happy Tuesday y'all!
love, c.

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