eleven. de capo aria
we kissed like lonely people do;
Alma's resignedly coming to the conclusion that no, she will never, ever be able to get back to her office door and not see the litany of post-it notes that Bert likes to leave whenever he thinks of her throughout the day. And while yes, some of them are obnoxious,ALMIE.
CALL ME.
LETS GO FOR TAMALES.
AND THEN OVER TO MY FRIEND TOMMY'S.
I'LL BE SO EXCITED YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO CALM ME.
BERT.
and sometimes a little bit offensive, in that harmless Bert way,Hey JSYK that scarf you're wearing? It's hot. It's hot grandma style. You'd make a really hot grandma.
and some of them are pointless entirely,I am just writing you this post it so I look like I am doing something important in my office. Look at me being important. Important important important.
I AM TURNING INTO A ZOMBIE.
BERT.
sometimes, ever now and again, Bert will come up with something honestly...honest.So I was out at the store today (ON THE CLOCK? WHO KNOWS) and I remembered you saying yesterday that you're out of that lemon ginger tea you're always drinking so I bought you some. It's in the kitchenette. You better go fight off Claude because I think he wanted to steal it I SAW HIS BEADY EYES ALMA.
-bert.
It's perplexing when it happens, especially when the tea makes it three thoughtful little post its in three days, and so Alma marches right down to Bert's office down the hall to tell him off for irresponsible misuse of office supplies or wasting time he should be using to grade essays or something. Only she has to detour by the kitchenette for a cup of lemon ginger tea (there's a suspiciously brand new bottle of honey next to the box, but perhaps she's being paranoid). But then she is definitely, definitely going right down to his office to tell him to knock it off. He's being unprofessional. She's married.
Claude is staring at her tea -- with indeed the same beady eyes Bert had mentioned. Alma snatches her box off the shelf and, warm comforting mug in hand, marches off towards Bert's open office door.
Her mouth is open and ready to start in on him, until Alma freezes, a little perplexed by the way he's actually sitting at his desk. Grading papers. She freezes, lips parted, for just long enough for him to sense her presence and look up. Aggravatingly innocent. "What's up, Alma?"
She gapes and tries to recover some of that well justified annoyance earlier. "You. You can't just. You're being very." It doesn't work. "Thank you for the tea." But she says it with annoyance. Sort of.
Bert smiles. "No problem. Right kind?"
Alma is caught mid sip. And she thought she was being so sneaky. "...Yes."
"Claude didn't get any did he?"
And of course now she has to smile, leaning in his doorway, cupping her mug in both hands. "I caught him just in time. Beady eyes and all."
He laughs, making an idle mark on a paper. "Told you."
"Yes well." Alma sniffs. "The post its have got to stop."
"Oh, Almie," Bert says, looking up again, suddenly pleading. "Where else am I going to use them?"
"On important things?" she suggests, another small sip of tea. Alma becomes suddenly interested in the no one walking down the hallway, and says snippishly, "Besides, all your random every day thoughts are not for my door." A beat. "But thank you for the tea, I appreciate it."
He smiles and sighs and marks a grade -- 92 -- on the essay. "You can thank me by running away with me."
She laughs, the way she doesn't always anymore. "I'll think about it. Finish grading first."
Alma's resignedly coming to the conclusion that no, she will never, ever be able to get back to her office door and not see the litany of post-it notes that Bert likes to leave whenever he thinks of her throughout the day. And while yes, some of them are obnoxious,ALMIE.
CALL ME.
LETS GO FOR TAMALES.
AND THEN OVER TO MY FRIEND TOMMY'S.
I'LL BE SO EXCITED YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO CALM ME.
BERT.
and sometimes a little bit offensive, in that harmless Bert way,Hey JSYK that scarf you're wearing? It's hot. It's hot grandma style. You'd make a really hot grandma.
and some of them are pointless entirely,I am just writing you this post it so I look like I am doing something important in my office. Look at me being important. Important important important.
I AM TURNING INTO A ZOMBIE.
BERT.
sometimes, ever now and again, Bert will come up with something honestly...honest.So I was out at the store today (ON THE CLOCK? WHO KNOWS) and I remembered you saying yesterday that you're out of that lemon ginger tea you're always drinking so I bought you some. It's in the kitchenette. You better go fight off Claude because I think he wanted to steal it I SAW HIS BEADY EYES ALMA.
-bert.
It's perplexing when it happens, especially when the tea makes it three thoughtful little post its in three days, and so Alma marches right down to Bert's office down the hall to tell him off for irresponsible misuse of office supplies or wasting time he should be using to grade essays or something. Only she has to detour by the kitchenette for a cup of lemon ginger tea (there's a suspiciously brand new bottle of honey next to the box, but perhaps she's being paranoid). But then she is definitely, definitely going right down to his office to tell him to knock it off. He's being unprofessional. She's married.
Claude is staring at her tea -- with indeed the same beady eyes Bert had mentioned. Alma snatches her box off the shelf and, warm comforting mug in hand, marches off towards Bert's open office door.
Her mouth is open and ready to start in on him, until Alma freezes, a little perplexed by the way he's actually sitting at his desk. Grading papers. She freezes, lips parted, for just long enough for him to sense her presence and look up. Aggravatingly innocent. "What's up, Alma?"
She gapes and tries to recover some of that well justified annoyance earlier. "You. You can't just. You're being very." It doesn't work. "Thank you for the tea." But she says it with annoyance. Sort of.
Bert smiles. "No problem. Right kind?"
Alma is caught mid sip. And she thought she was being so sneaky. "...Yes."
"Claude didn't get any did he?"
And of course now she has to smile, leaning in his doorway, cupping her mug in both hands. "I caught him just in time. Beady eyes and all."
He laughs, making an idle mark on a paper. "Told you."
"Yes well." Alma sniffs. "The post its have got to stop."
"Oh, Almie," Bert says, looking up again, suddenly pleading. "Where else am I going to use them?"
"On important things?" she suggests, another small sip of tea. Alma becomes suddenly interested in the no one walking down the hallway, and says snippishly, "Besides, all your random every day thoughts are not for my door." A beat. "But thank you for the tea, I appreciate it."
He smiles and sighs and marks a grade -- 92 -- on the essay. "You can thank me by running away with me."
She laughs, the way she doesn't always anymore. "I'll think about it. Finish grading first."