I have fallen head over heels with a locksmith named Mike. Mike smells of steel and lubricant. He sits in my office dressed in workman's blues calibrating me through his horn rim glasses as he shares his sunflower seeds. He gauges me with the framed hazel eyes as he offers me his bag. I would feed this man anything he desires in the kitchen without him asking, with out his offer of snacks, he just does not know this yet.
"You really should stay here at this facility and not go to the other one. The people are nicer here at maximum security."
I want to stay right there with him, licking the salt off his secure lips.
"And you have to factor in the time it would take you to drive everyday up north."
I should of dished him up some breakfast at that point, but I was enjoying his coaxing too much to give it up so easy.
"No traffic heading out of town, Mmike."
I tell him he has the biggest keys I have ever seen as I stare at the ring hanging near his groin and I mean it.
"You play cribbage? You should come down to my office some afternoon and play."
I have pretended my codes are not working seven times in four days and can't get the image of naked board games in his dark office out of my mind.
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3 comments:
Aww you sick little monkey you need stop wearing your heart on your sleave.
I do not wear me heart on my sleave. I load it into a sling shot and whip it out there.
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