Picture it, my secretary and I are sitting in our cubicles formerly of the white ghetto, and out of the corner of my eye I can see her eyes hovering above the partition. Looking back at my screen there is an email from her asking me to do some work . I am tempted to look over at her and acknowledge receipt of the email, but she is staring at her screen with an intensity I imagine comes from trying not to look at me. I have to repress a little smile that involuntarily forms at the absurdity of it all. I send her the stuff she needs, wondering if we will be greeting each other in the mornings by email from now on, and half expect her to vocalize her thanks. Instead, she sends me an email, thanking me for my trouble. We are each essentially pretending that the other is not within physical reach. This must be what it feels like to be in perfect harmony with another human being.
I may have to begin surreptitious construction of a wall that will run along the top of the partition, obscuring her from my view if I am to keep up this farce.