Girls With Luv

ONE Spencer

No matter where you are, who you are or what context you belong to, you will one day meet a person who will make you follow them around like a child enchanted by the sound of a song they might be singing. You will show the exit door to your rational, reasonable and competent mind and let utter buffoonery take over your senses.

What, you don't believe me?

Good.

Because I was making fun of the crap a colleague just threw my way. I mean, I understand the hype of fairy tale romance that has been modified into popular culture, but what is the need to make it the only reality we can live in? What about the daily romance you indulge in with your coffee mug? I bet no one wrote a love sonnet on that.

"You don't believe me because you fell out of love," Cynthia argues with a slight twirl of her index finger, which really makes me wanna draw bunnies on it. With a permanent marker.

"If you don't stop making a case for sappy romance, I'll fall out of my chair," I say in a nonchalant manner and continue going through the manuscript in front of me. It's already a herculean task to finish proofreading stuff in one day, and this woman is just being a heavy cloud ruining my sunny day.

"Yeah, whatever. I know you secretly have a stack of romance novels because you can't help yourself."

"Why would I go for romance novels when I have your irritating audiobooks to listen to literally every day?"

"Do you think my voice is good enough for an audiobook?" The gasp she lets out reverberates like the annoying buzzing of a bumblebee. I slam the manuscript on the table and massage my temples with my fingertips. I should really get an award for tolerating my assistant's sheer inability to get a message. "I mean, yes I do have a beautiful voice. Maybe I should sell it. OH YES that's --"

"Cynthia, get me a glass of iced tea please."

Okay, let me make it very clear. I hate doing this to her. I absolutely hate it. I'd rather use her help with meeting deadlines than make her do some stupid coffee work. But sometimes, she makes it really hard for me to not snap. For example, her unending dedication to change my rigid perspective on love and romance just because her astrologer told her that she'll soon get extra busy with a whirlwind romance. I'm still unable to understand my position in this picture.

"Yes, on it!"

She runs out of the room as if her clothes are on fire and I stare at her retreating figure. She didn't even realize that I used my "pissed-off" voice. That woman is brimming with innocence and I will pray every day that no one ever tries to take advantage of it. It's already a miracle to find someone like her for real, I don't want that to change.

Without further ado, I return to my manuscript and push up the stupid glasses over the bridge of my nose. Reading is not a problem for me simply because I grew up in a family which served books for dinner. Not literally. Every year, my dad made me write a list of the books I'd wanna read and the entire year was spent putting tick-marks all over that poor sheet of paper. That's how I grew up and the love for reading hasn't disappeared. That is why I stuck with it and made a profession out of it, which is great because now, my mom doesn't scold me for not practising math before going to bed. Lately, I've even tried my hand at writing and I must say, I'm not that bad at it. I just need a 6 months vacation to turn my imagination into a full-fledged novel, which is an impossible dream to put my arms around. So, ignorance is absolute bliss.

I use the blunt pencil on the table to underline the grammatical errors that call out to me from a maze of printed letters. This is my problem and hidden talent: I tend to catch errors better than a lizard. My smile grows as another one pops up like free candy and the ecstasy is thwarted by the sound of my phone ringing like a trumpet. I need to change the ringtone before it accidentally attracts a baby elephant.