Here We Go Again( Part Three)

Goddamn ! Someone get me a fucking filing cabinet right this minute! That fucker better have eight goddam drawers too!
My cube is awash in files-wire baskets piled in crudely numeric order, in- basket on top of in-basket. Out-basket? I don't need a fucking out-basket! I can't get anything done with all this mess everywhere.

Work amazes me. Dozens of people in the same room all day. Lots of chatter, but nary a single expression or observance worthy of more than the most cursory of responses. Except for the shit that frightens the hell out of me.
One of the Office Ladies has a daughter that works for a record company that leans a bit to the left. Office lady went to visit her daughter in Buffalo, she said she had a nice time , but she was concerned because daughter hadn't found (or looked) for a new church.
Much clucking arose in the neighboring damncubes, clucking and the feather-soothing promises to pray for her daughter. "She'll come back", coos one beady-eyed office pigeon.
It was weird. Mom Lady didn't really seem that worried, she just said she doesn't talk about politics or religion with her daughter, which I found refreshingly sensible.
It was the reaction of the damncube denizens to such an off-hand comment that I found disturbing.
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The Company closed the last office I worked at and consolidated the staff to the one I'm at now. Ex-office fling-mate Lenore is now one aisle over. We last parted very awkwardly, but I take a deep breath and walk over to say hi.
She stands up, and I know she's going to kiss me. It's in the way she rises.
But we're at work , so we pause , inches apart.
Chit. I miss you.
Chat. I miss you too.

We should get together soon.
This is said like it's a novel idea.
I'm not sure who said it first.
We both agree.