Just Tuesdays

Eventually, he did slide out and off of me, then collapsed beside me. With him, he brought a pillow to lay on, though I laid my head on his arm. He pulled me close.

"I wish I had more arms to hug you with," I said.

"I wish I could hug you like an octopus," he answered.

We laid there for a little while, our breathing slowly returning to a reasonable pace. Occasionally he leaned in and kissed me some more. I ran my hand across his chest. He rubbed my arm and gave me an occasional squeeze. It was a while before the real world returned and we stayed away as long as we could, enjoying each other's closeness.

***

And that's what I replay in my mind, here at work today. Everything that happened last night, the sublime adventure of a mundane Tuesday night. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary had happened, but it was also still just so perfect.

I smile as I set up the display. Chaz and I move on to an endcap in the Toys department that needs to be changed out. The new setup is a collection of stuffed animals. I cut open boxes, set the merchandise on the shelf.

One plushie catches my eye and makes me wish I was somewhere else. This one makes me think about taking off my stiff khaki pants in exchange for thigh-high blue socks and a short black skirt. No, the stuffed animal doesn't turn me on. It just triggers my memory. And I'm sure it won't be the last time today. It's nothing more than a little blue stuffed octopus, smiling so happily that it's eyes are closed.