Inamorata

He looked at the monitor, dazed and irritated, "How could it go wrong? I did a thorough check of everything" he wondered. Yet he could not figure out the reason for the "30 Errors Detected!" message that flashed on his screen. "A damn copy paste job! and I could not even do that without screwing up!" he cursed himself. He threw his arms up in dismay, muttering to himself, wanting to smash the monitor to pieces. His thoughts of torchering the monitor was interrupted when his boss came over and told him that he had to work on the weekend. "Great, I'll probably go to the pantry, drown myself with endless cups of coffee and hopefully die of a caffeine overdose" he mused to himself. It was there that he first set his eyes on her, and the first word that came to his mind was "Ethereal".

She seemed like the first drop of rain that falls on earth after a sultry afternoon, she was beautiful, graceful, and so serene. He nervously fidgeted with the coffee machine hoping not to make a fool of himself in front of her, praying that she stayed a bit longer. He wanted to know her name, he wanted to know about the life she lived, he wanted to be her friend, atleast in that way she would say out his name, and it had been ages since his name had been called out by someone so divine looking. He wondered if her name would be as beautiful as she was, did she have a guy? Was he even deserving enough to hear his name being called out from those gentle lips? He wished he had the charm and the panache to go over and start a conversation with her. But he was socially challenged, he felt having too many friends was overrated, he spent the weekend lazing around on his couch, making excuses to avoid his friends so that he could curl up in front of the boob tube, watching new releases on pirated dvds. He had a simple life and was a simpler guy to please. He wanted nothing from life, until now. 

It was then he wished that he became her friend, a friend who would make her laugh, a shoulder to lean onto when she cried, a friend who would always be there to comfort her, to tell her that pain doesn't last forever. He would sing for her, dance for her, learn to play the guitar for her, become a clown for her, for her he was willing to get off the couch on a weekend.  He heard her name being called out by his friends, "Inamorata" they said to which she responded. "Inamorata" he whispered to himself, if ever there was a name so fitting to a person, this had to be it.

He drank up his stale cup of coffee saying her name out to himself after every sip, as if it made the coffee more sweeter. He trudged back to his desk and typed her name in different fonts...
 
Inamorata!  Inamorata!   Inamorata!  Inamorata!   Inamorata!   Inamorata!   Inamorata!



He wrote them in different colors....

Inamorata!  Inamorata!   Inamorata!  Inamorata!   Inamorata!   Inamorata!   Inamorata! 

And chuckled to himself about how crazy he was sounding...

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, he occasionally bumped into her at the pantry, or at the elevator. He was drowned with work, deadlines to meet and reports to be sent and targets to be achieved had clouded his mind more than her. Those chance encounters with her may have lasted for only a few minutes, but for that brief moment he would be transported to a whole new world. A world where she called him out by his name, a world where he was the reason for the smile on her lips, a world where work took the back seat and she the front. 

The economy was coming back to health and his colleagues who had taken this job as a stop-gap arrangement moved on to greener pastures. His work increased and he soon had to juggle tasks. Getting out of office on regular time became a luxury. Inamorata was slowly fading away from his heart and mind. His request to his boss on allotting him with a helping hand fell on deaf ears. "You can handle it! you are quite capable, you are being trained for bigger roles" he was promised, "So much for laughing out loud on your bad jokes" he thought to himself.  But he never gave up, he kindly put in a word on lending a "resource" from other departments whenever he found some time with his boss. Finally the powers that be decided that he be provided with a "resource". The best "resource" that he could have wished for.

It was late in the evening and the office was close to empty when his boss introduced his new colleague to him, he exchange pleasantries and updated his new "resource" on the process and the works. He felt something burning within him, there was an urge at the bottom of his stomach that wanted him to rush out of his desk and run towards the restroom. He excused himself and rushed towards the restroom, as he walked the tiredness that had corroded his mind and his body slowly vanished. He walked into the restroom, took a quick scan. There was no one around. He rolled up his sleeve, adjusted his glasses, pushed the strands of hair to the side of his head, closed his eyes and took position. 


As he opened his eyes, he could see a large crowd waiting for him to perform. He took a deep breath and broke into a waltz. There was no music being played, yet he could hear a melody within his heart which seemed to be flying high. As he swayed faster, his heart beat faster, as his heart beat faster, the music grew louder. The crowd was on its feet, dancing along with him. They were shouting out his name loud, they were asking for an encore. His feet moved faster, and his hands moved even faster. As the music slowly faded out he slowed down, he bowed his head, doffed his imaginary hat to the crowd and thanked them for the support. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and opened his eyes again. He was transported back to reality.

He went to the basin, washed his face and looked into the mirror. "Inamorata" he slowly said, her name was music to his ears. He gave a smile, wondering when he smiled last. Blew a kiss to the mirror, and walked out of the restroom to meet the girl waiting for her, Inamorata.