The Copy Machine

The copy machine repairman came today, not the one with the shakes, but the one who has a crush on the Contessa. Romeo got so bad that for a couple of weeks he came in every few days to make sure the machine was running ok. He vacuumed the machine and cleaned the glass a couple of times a week. But we hadn't seen him for a couple of months. "Where have you been?" I asked him today. The contessa frowned at an honoraria payment form. She bit her lip in concentration "Yeah. Family stuff," he said. He lingered by the Contessa's desk. I willed him not to share the family stuff. "How have you been?" Romeo asked the contessa. "Me? Oh fine. Busy." "You got a haircut, it looks nice." The contessa blushed. When she came back from her haircut the week, before her eyes were red from crying. The haircut was very short, but not short like a pixie, which was what she was trying for. It was the teensiest bit poofy. She'd also dyed it blonde. "I look like a lesbian." "There's nothing wrong with looking like a lesbian." "But I look like a lesbian mom."


"I've replaced the bearings," the repairman said. "Thank you." The contessa smiled rigidly. The repairman leaned over her desk. The contessa sent me an email. The subject line was "h," the message said, "elp." The repairman "But the copy machine is still missing pins. I stuck the top of a ballpoint pen in the hole, but if it comes out you can just put it right back in." "Don't you have a meeting with mom?" I asked the contessa. "Oh shit,yes." She leapt up, grabbed her purse and ran out. Romeo nodded goodbye to me, but the fire was out of his eyes.

The contessa came back as I was finishing this up. "What are you doing? Are you writing about me? Don't write about me." "I'm not." I lied. "Just don't say something mean about my hair, Mr. Blog."