Jim gathered his briefcase and his jacket as he prepared to go out on a sales call. Angela was up at Pam's desk giving her detailed instructions on how to file the documents as he passed. He gave a little wave and glanced at Angela, "Bye, ladies." Pam smiled
"Do you mind?" Angela asked exasperated, "You're interrupting."
"Actually, Jim," Pam interjected, holding a finger up to an aggrieved Angela, "Don't forget your folder." She handed it over with a smile.
He took the folder but looked at her a little perplexed. "Thanks, Pam. I almost forgot." Angela had gone back to talking, so he looked at her questioningly. She just looked serene and waved him out the door.
Upon getting into his car, he checked out the folder, upending the contents into his hands. It was an envelope with his name on it. When he opened it up, he just started smiling. It was handwritten on yellow legal pad.
Email and chats are the 'new' conventional. As I'd rather be unconventional, here goes:
A Love Letter To Jim,
I know we've only been dating for a few weeks, but I get to do corny stuff like this as I've already said 'I Love You' (so do you, hint, hint.)
You make me happy. Amazingly happy, the kind of happy that makes you stupid with it.
And I love it. Nearly as much as I love you.
My work is suffering (I think, with Michael you never know) because of you, too. I feel like I'm never getting anything done because my mind has decided that watching you is now my full-time job. And let me tell you, the pay sucks, but the benefits are awesome.
You ever notice how you now make me twitter? (I like that word) You walk up to my desk and I have to stop myself (if I'm on time) from flipping my hair and batting my lashes. Congratulations. You've turned me into a fifteen year old again with hormones to match.
We're going to get so busted at work if you don't stop messing with my hormones!
I can't remember what the stuff on my desk is for because I keep waiting for your eyes to meet mine so that you'll smile at me. It's my fix. Like I'm a junky or something!
I'll watch you, like this morning when you took your jacket off. I watched your shirt move over your shoulders and arms and I thought of how strong you are, so tall. I had to play a very intense, eye-focused game of solitaire to cool off.
Also, I love your hands. Your long, strong, elegant, manly hands. (Yes I said 'manly'). When you hold my hand I'm so aware of how much bigger yours is than mine. It makes me feel girly, which I love. The way you twirl stuff in your hands at work while you're talking to someone on the phone or when you're thinking of something…God! I watch your hands and remember the way you've touched me…or haven't touched me yet.
I watch you talk on the phone, or even when you're just talking to me and I think of the way your lips can make me forget everything and yet feel everything.
I can't wait for you to touch me again. Kiss me again. I've dreamed of it. I love it all. I want to wallow in it, in you, and how you make me feel.
I'm looking forward to our date on Saturday;)
Back to conventional…
Have a good day. Have fun as you get to escape the nutjob farm for the glories of summer outdoors, leaving your lonely, wistful girlfriend for all of 3 hours.
I'll miss you.
I love you.
Jim breath let out in a rush as he finished the letter. Then he read it again. He held it to his chest as he fought the urge to rush upstairs and attack her (romantically) in front of the entire office.
But he smiled. He had a better idea. He started the car and pulled out of the office's lot to park just a block away. He reached into his briefcase and got out his own yellow legal tab and pen. He was going to be late for his meeting.