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For months, I’ve watched her trying in vain to erode his rocky disdain with a constant stream of compliments and favours.

They say even the tallest mountain will one day crumble into dust, but the same principle doesn’t seem to apply here. I honestly don’t think he even knows her name.

Still, she runs after him every day. She fetches his coffee and lectures the barista on precisely how he likes it. That little tiny twitch of his lips after the first sip is the closest I’ve ever seen him get to actually smiling, and I can see that she lives for that moment.

He takes advantage of her, and he doesn’t even see how it both thrills and kills her. Like the day he sent her to buy a get well gift for one of his clients.

“Not flowers,” he said. “Only a moron spends money on something that’s already dying.”

She went out and got a nice present, then came back and disposed of the pretty tulips she’d bought that morning to brighten up her desk.

I used to observe all of this from a distance. Dispassionate and disinterested. Office romances have never been of any interest to me – aside from when they cause some kind of trouble that I’m going to have to sort out.

It’s hard to say exactly when my feelings changed. All I know is that they have, and the sight of her smile as she sees the big bunch of tulips I left on her desk is enough to lift my heart.

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: Three Word Wednesday this week offers the words Erode, Heart and Observe. Initially, I thought this was going to turn out very depressing but I think there might be some chance for happiness in this tale.)