The Cute Ones Always Leave Early

In my work room, all of the people there are older than me.  And, I'm afraid, ugly.  And half of them are men.  Ugh.

I can't help but gravitate, or at least focus my attention, on the youngest, hottest test scorer there, the one who might have graduated but don't know what to do yet with her life, or got stuck doing this temp job for no other reason than she's unemployable everywhere else, at least for the time being.  Hey, that's good for me -- gazing, salivating, looking at her butt, trying to impress her, shit like that.

This young cutie -- actually the only young cutie, and in fact that only young woman there, but decades -- probably just got out of college, so she's half my age.  She's white, has brown, curly hair, and today was wearing a shirt with a sort-of see-through back; the top half was cross-stitched, or whatever you call that.

I was hoping that I could do that Monday when I bring these exotic Kit-Kat bars from Japan that I think I can buy at this Asian grocery market in St. Paul tomorrow.  But, just as I was leaving for the day and week, I saw this babe talk to the room supervisor and take all her papers to the shred bin.  That means only one thing: She's not coming back.  Probably found a job, or maybe hated this job so much that she lied about finding a job in order to leave and never come back.

Now there are no hotties in the room.

The cute ones always leave early.