She always looked tired
Even with her face covered in her smooth make-up and her hair primed nice and curled at the end, she always seemed tired, not exactly sleepy, not exhausted. Right in the cool middle, just tired. She would stretch and her waist would twist when she did so, she would sip her coffee and look at me with her eyes that were darker than the rest of her, she would open her mouth to resound the most tired and lazy voice I've ever heard, but felt like pure velvet. You know, almost sexy. "Good morning, Alex, how are you?" and I'd say the same back awkwardly in my voice that sounded like—uh—a stick of wet lollipop, which is the nicest way I can put it.
Let's cut to the chase, I'm in love. I'm not even sure if it is love, truly, perhaps a temporary high that leaves me blowing smoke from my mouth whenever I think about her and my head is fucked with thoughts of her and I in a place that didn't exist. In situations that would never happen. Infatuation. Maybe it is love huh? Ha. How stupid.
I work at a magazine company, FYL "Free Young Life" I'm an assistant Art director, training to be an associate, I work with Deputy Art director, Wendy. My job isn't really that important though, Hell. the only highlight to it is Ms. Jude. Yeah, the one I'm in love with, apparently. Jude Walters, the Photo Assistant. Our offices aren't far from each other, since there have been countless argument that art and photography are the same thing, or two completely different things. I'm not going to complain though. I have Jude, that's all I need. Even if she doesn't know it.
You know it's kinda funny how people can have no idea what youre thinking about, how you feel about them, what you ARE in general, without having you directly tell them, and that's scary as shit. You could be thinking about that great porno you watched and how much hotter the guy in the backgrounds butt was than the girls but in the actual porno, while walking through a church on Sunday. The mind is a scary thing and it fucks me up how overly torturous it is that Jude has no idea what she means to me, not a single clue. Not even a passing thought probably. Of course, I don't know that. The same theory, or whatever, applies to her too. I have absolutely no idea what she thinks about either. Maybe she's in love with me too. Maybe she hates my guts and thinks my voice is weird. Maybe I'm just a normal co-worker to her.
Damn, I've really got to stop thinking about people who probably don't even give a shit about me.
But Jude Walters? She's a drug of the highest proportion and have you ever seen a drug give a shit? Not at all. and you still have a chance to do them. (Not that I would do so immediately...)
