Tuesday, February 14, 2006

I Know Every Crevice And I Know Every Kiss 

and what tastes have been before me, and which ones you will miss.

St. Valentine’s Day has found Stella, my eighties style yuppie witch of a team leader, in nostalgic mood.

“Hey Tabs,” she said. “Remember when we were about eleven or twelve? Before we had boyfriends but we wanted to be ready for when we did, so we’d practise by kissing each other?”
Tabs mumbled hesitantly. A deafening sound of fingers no longer tapping at keyboards fell upon the office.

“At first we’d kiss each other on the arms. Then on the neck.”

Silence. Creepy Keith from Accounts, who was passing in the corridor but seems to have special antennae for this sort of thing, joined us.

“Then when we did have boyfriends, we’d kiss each other on the mouth, kidding ourselves that we were checking for bad breath. Like seriously long French kisses on the way to the school disco. Remember?”
“Erm, yeah, no,” replied Tabs. “I’d forgotten about that. Sort of. Completely.”

The clock ticked. Fans whirred. The panic before dream time overcome.
Neil, my former team leader, glided unmajestically past the window on roller skates. Then he receded into the distance like a disappearing full stop, or that dot you used to get on the telly when all the programmes had finished.

“God, I miss those days,” said Stella longingly, and Mike hurried from the room with a greater degree of urgency than usual.

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