New girl starts at work. Knee-length skirt clinging to childbearing hips; two loose buttons hinting at unknown treasures beneath a well-ironed blouse.
There's more: a nervous smile as we're introduced is bracketed by dimples. I'm smitten.
Try to make eye contact throughout the morning but her mind is elsewhere - must be first-day nerves.
People slope out for lunch alone or in pairs. Soon it's just me and her. Think I'll see if she fancies a McDonald's. Need the loo first, though.
The men's is engaged. If I'm not back soon she might go. I'll use the ladies'. Go in there quite often anyway. It's cleaner and who's going to know?
Takes longer than anticipated and there's a stain after I flush. Cover it up with toilet paper.
Feel a presence as I step into the corridor, and the scent of an unfamiliar perfume contrasts sharply to the odour I've left behind. It's her.
"Isn't this the ladies'?" she enquires, in a tone that tells me an answer is not required.
Blood rushes to my cheeks. There's nothing to say. Scurry back to my desk.
It's several seconds before I hear her footsteps venturing towards the vacant room, and several more before she dares enter.
Spend the afternoon trying not to make eye contact. It isn't difficult.