I remember how damn pissed I'd been when you left that first post-it note on my window. You'd only been in the lab for three days and you'd already taken to bossing me around. I'd sat down on the wheely-chair you used to love riding around on like a damn go-cart around your office space, read the note, my face twisting into a sour frown. 755Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWFK9IpGpUr
Open the blinds. Unless you're a vampire. Which in that case I'll be ordering garlic bread for my lunch from now. 755Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWDA5DRTbGn
I'd snorted, and scrunched it up using it as target practice for my bin across the room. In our lab, there had only been a large, rectangle glass window diving us. Yet, despite it being supposedly "sound-proof," I could always hear the stupid classical music you'd blast from your stereo at eight every morning, no matter how many noise complaints you got from the other scientists in the building (which may have included one or sixteen from me.) 755Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzJuwHxmjfZ
Yet, despite the abruptness on your end, I opened the blinds covering our window. A week later, I got rid of them all together. Even two weeks in I was still slightly ticked off at your presence. Three years I'd worked in this lab, and not once had I'd suffered a co-worker like you. A co-worker that enjoyed drawing crude stick-figure versions of me being a ninja, taking down Godzilla and winning a rap-battle against Ninjesus. When I clocked out, I went to our Head of Department, genuinely concerned for your mental standing. 755Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCagNFFvEhZ
A few days later, now aware that you were "apparently" completely sane, you left another sticky note on the window. They were always blue. Mine were always yellow. Why? I'm not 100% sure, I guess I was just afraid of change. Maybe that's why you intimidated me so much. Twenty-one questions? I was curious so I obliged. The first few had been simple. Then after we'd worked through the first twenty-one, we'd simply kept asking questions. I told you my story, and you'd told me another's. It was my honesty that was the death of what we had. A year past, (as well as an absurd office bill that was primarily comprised of post-it notes.) Our days began with good morning :) from me and an afternoon sexy from you. I planned things down to the second, you'd always say. Well, I'd been planning to leave that pink note on the glass on that damn Valentine's day for too long. 755Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNA0hnDmGQo
You'd left early, so I left the note with a rose taped next to it for you to see the next morning. Still taped to the window, the rose wilted and withered away. Maybe a year later, I got the good sense to tear the note and those three words in two.755Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVuic1K0RQ3
