Secret admirer

In a post-it note, she wrote that I smelled like sunshines and flowers. Weird, but here’s some logic: those two things defy gravity in the same way that I resisted the pull of her rotund figure.

She smelled like Cheetos. I love Cheetos, but not love-love, you know?

I threw the note out, but the next day there was another. “Sunshines and flowers.” A fortnight and fourteen notes later, I had to fire her. She left.

The notes never stopped coming. I’m not sure where they come from, but I keep in them in my desk drawer. It’s almost full.

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