A Bad Sign

I have this thing. 

I've always had this thing. 

It's called Jaundice. 

Just kidding. 

When I'm single, I tend to obsess over someone. 

Whom I know nothing about. 

They generally happen to be in the same class as me. 

Or they got picked up at Starbucks after being turned down at Home Depot. 

They build and build in my head.

To the point where they say, "I'll get you your coffee on the other side."

And I very nearly say, "I'll miss you."

I can't help it. 

I don't visualize them in the shower or root through their trash or anything. 

I just...find them pretty for little chunks of time.

It's all very grade seven, in a way. 

I know. It's odd. 

I never ask these women out. 

Pardoning one exception.

So, there's this teacher. 

She's the only teacher who isn't an intern and isn't 45 or so. 

And when she goes near the coffee maker when I'm near the coffee maker I start rambling to myself in my head. 

Be calm. You're wearing a suit. You're fine. Say something funny. 

Like that's going to happen. 

She teaches children how to do sign language. 

See? 

Not a good match. 

She cares about people. 

But these are never rational afflictions. 

Ever. 

So, this deaf mom shows up today. 

What are the odds?

The mom's writing things to communicate with the secretary.

Then she waves. 

Then she starts signing. In the language. 

And it's the sexiest and most touching thing I've seen in some time. 

Then I quickly leave. 

Before I start coming up with elaborate ideas. 

Like:

"What if I learned to sign 'would you like to get coffee with me?'"

And other restraining-order laced thoughts. 

If I was deaf I'd be constantly worried that everyone was talking about me.