Keeping count of the ways that you love me

Almost every day after lunch I enter my cubicle bay and find the two newly minted fathers passed out on their keyboards.  Today their tabletop snoozing was rudely interrupted by the sounds of our fourth bay member talking loudly on her bedazzled iphone.  When I looked around the corner, rather than seeing her I was confronted with the sight of Birnam Woods marching on Dunsinane.  Only when I looked again did I realize that it was just K carrying a monstrous bouquet.  Everyone within 100 meters who wasn't stone deaf was treated to her end of the conversation with her boyfriend as she crowed happily over how he had redeemed himself (she was speaking in English for my benefit as well, I think).  Poor guy apparently had a bloody valentine.

The triumphal parade ended next to my desk as she then proceeded to make a big show of finding a place to situate her flowers.  There was enough room at her area by the window but my area had a good line of sight for anyone passing from the break room.  Somehow I ended up with the flowers on my desk.

Within a few minutes one of the interns stopped by and began to gush over the flowers.  By the way, it was a remarkable arrangement .  I thanked her profusely for her compliments and somehow forgot to mention that they weren't my flowers.  Later, when I returned to my desk from the water cooler I discovered that they had been moved back to K's desk.

I wonder if I should bring that sad, wilting poinsettia that SB gave me for Christmas to the office.  It isn't faring so well at home due to limited sunlight.  I bet it would look much nicer nestled nest to K's glorious arrangement.

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