Last night I had a dream starring the cute Australian beanpole from work.
She was talking to me about something, or perhaps just staring at me, I can't really recall which it was now. When she would look at me with those huge blue eyes, she would lightly nibble on her lower lip with sinister adorability.
Oh, how I fancy that smile.
Oh, how I fancy her everything.
When I wasn't paying attention, she attached a small greyhound luggage tag to a piece of equipment I was using, and then trotted to the opposite side of the room.
I looked across the room to catch her looking at me, as I so often do in real life, but this time I didn't look away. I returned her gaze, only to be met with a grin, her face painting darker and darker shades of embarrassed.
I noticed the tag, featuring her handwriting, which I've never seen in real life, but somehow I was convinced that it belonged to her.
