Petty Cash (bp coyle)

She was cute, like really cute. A little Pakistani girl who worked in Accounting as a junior. I had only ever spoken to her when asking for something from petty cash. I had tried to summon up the courage to make a little small talk but all I ever managed was to blush deeply, mumble an incoherent ‘thank you’ and run away in an awkward manner. I am not good with girls.

It was early Spring, so I decided to walk though the park to work. It had been a long, cold Winter, I was enjoying the feel of a warmish sun, the scent of the flowers, when I heard running behind me. The clip, clip, clip of high-heeled shoes. It was her.

‘Hey,’ she said, ‘I thought we could walk in together.’

‘Okay,’ was the best I could muster.

We went in silence for a time. ‘Look,’ she exclaimed. ‘A squirrel!’

I turned to where she was pointing. ‘Nice,’ I said.

‘Oh no,’ she told me. ‘You can catch AIDS from a squirrel.’

‘Not if you wear a condom,’ I said.

Though I worked in that job for another six months, she never spoke to me again.