Forty-One

Monte draped his arm over the wobbly cubicle wall, waiting for the woman to turn and look at him. He remembered her from the cab ride the other night, and at first, he thought she didn’t recognize him. Now as he detected her hesitation, instinct told him she did, in fact, recall that evening. Why, then, was she acting so shy right now?

After a few awkward moments of silence, the woman lifted her shoulders and turned in her swivel chair, her gaze meeting his. He blinked, not believing what he saw. She looked so different from when he first saw her. Although it was dark, he remembered her smile had lit up her whole face.

It’d been quite a while since he had seen a person wear that style of glasses and even longer when a woman had dared wear such plain clothes. The overly large brown dress didn’t do a thing to enhance her figure. It probably made it worse. He knew firsthand that she wasn’t a big woman since she had sat on his lap with his arms arou