Only ShePosted: August 2, 2015
Only she told him that she loved him.
He had lived nearly forty years alone.
His parents had died when he was very small, too young to remember anything about them, in a car accident. He was the only survivor.
With no other family, he had shuttled from foster home to foster home until he aged out of the system, never staying in one place long enough to hear those magic words that seemed to mean so much to the rest of the world.
He worked in the same job, at the same office, for seventeen years, undisturbed.
But yesterday, as he was returning from lunch, he lived a scene straight from the pages of 1984. The attractive young woman from the mail room bumped into him, passing him a note as she did so. Her eyes never met his; she never spoke aloud. Only the folded piece of paper crumpled into his palm served as evidence of their contact.
He returned to his desk and opened the note.
In small soft letters, I love you.
He put the paper in his pocket and continued his day, mind racing, trying to find a possible solution to this mystery.
He was still pondering as he clocked out and put his jacket on to leave.
He saw her in the parking lot; he was reasonably sure that she hadn’t seen him.
It turned out that they had parked next to each other. He wondered if this had been planned or was a happy accident.
As they sat in their respective driver’s seats, they turned to look at each other. She smiled first, and he quickly followed suit. She got out of her car and walked around to get in his.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Judy,” she replied. “I love you, Paul.”
The smile that had begun to fade from his face brightened anew.
“Do you like it here, Judy?” he asked.
“Not really,” she replied.
“Then let’s go,” Paul answered.
They lived happily ever after, far, far away.
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