BREAKROOM

This week's short story is a romance set in the rat's maze of downtown Geekatopian businesses. Poor Geekatopia is gradually depopulating under the stress of our recession - two more of my clients threw in the towel last week: a mortgage company and a supplier to the aircraft industry. Yet construction proceeds on buildings that will no doubt remain vacant far into the future. Too bad we couldn't just commandeer a few to house the now-homeless software engineers!

BREAKROOM
He was off the couch like a shot when she screamed.
“Whoa! I’m just taking a nap here!” he yelled.
The woman with the cart aimed a can of lemon air freshener at his heart.
“What are you doing in the employee lounge?” she shouted.
“Like I said, taking a nap.” He held his hands up to show he was unarmed.
“In the dead of night?”
“I’m not hurting anyone,” he said. “Hey, it’s Friday. I thought the janitor came on Wednesday night?”
“He has the flu so I’m filling in,” she said.
“You don’t look so good yourself,” he said. “Sorry I scared you. Sit down and I’ll make us coffee. You’ll feel better in no time.”
He stepped to the galley kitchen, filled the coffee maker basket with Starbucks Pike Place Blend, and punched the brew button.
“You can’t do that!” yelped the woman.
“Sure I can. Do it all the time,” he said. “My name’s Mark, by the way. I used to work here.”
She sat down at the bistro table by the refrigerator. Mark took two clean mugs from the dishwasher and a package of Fig Newtons from the cabinet above the sink.
“Slim pickings, I’m afraid. They clean out the fridge every third Thursday. But you’d know that I suppose.”
“No, I . . . you said you used to work here? What are you doing still here?”
“Actually I mostly live here,” said Mark. “What’s your name? I can’t call you cleaning lady.”
“Maggie. You live in the building?”
“Sure. It’s got everything: kitchen, fitness room with a shower, nice cozy couch. Beats the heck out of a box under a bridge.”
“But how do you get past security?”
“Security is a joke. If you look like you belong, no one knows you don’t.”
Mark’s deep brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Maggie smiled. He filled her mug.
“You have a pretty smile,” he said. “How long have you been emptying wastebaskets for a living?”
She blushed.
“Not long. It’s the old story, I’m working my way through college,” she said. “You don’t exactly look like your typical homeless guy.”
In fact she was noticing that he was really very cute - for a homeless guy. Steady on, Maggie told herself. Though the idea of putting one over on mighty Microtechna appealed to her sense of poetic justice. She’d had to compete with a mob of downsized geeks for her modest janitorial job.
“Thanks,” he said. “And you’re prettier than most janitors I’ve seen. I’d be tempted to help you clean toilets if this was your regular route.”
“But it’s not my regular route and if I don’t get busy I won’t finish the building before dawn.”
She rinsed her mug in the sink and set it in the dish drainer.
“You won’t rat me out?”
“Nope. But I might ask for a re-route.”
“Cool! I’ll practice my toilet cleaning technique!”
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