Seeing as I lost my job a few months ago, I can now confess that #143 was a volunteer at my work. I mean, it’s not the story of a torrid affair or anything significant at all, but it was against the rules for staff to get involved with volunteers, so even in my drunken state I was aware that our brief kiss shouldn’t be happening.
#143 had fallen in love with another woman earlier that year. I was kind of envious of her experience: she’d always identified as straight, so getting together with her girlfriend was a complete surprise. I’ll never experience that kind of surprise; I can only imagine how exhilarating it must have felt. Anyway, we were at a colleague’s party and we got really drunk. #143 and I were talking in the kitchen and I think she was talking about how she’d never been with any other women. I think that’s how come we wound up kissing. I was conscious of the rule and I’m pretty sure I was not, for a change, the one who initiated it. What with #143 being gorgeous, however, I was not actually about to say no.
The next morning I woke up feeling rough. #143 and I texted each other. “Do you remember we sorta kissed last night?” she said. “Madness!” I couldn’t focus on it right then, though, because I was trying to figure out whether I just had a really bad hangover or alcohol poisoning or what. And then I went in to hospital and I didn’t go back to work for six weeks.