I missed you today. Yesterday, too.
I usually see you sometime during the day. You are there, in the ops room, behind the almost soundproof glass, either when I arrive, sometime while I'm there or before I leave.
Yesterday I missed you because I went out the back door and you were on the swing shift. I checked the log and found out you were in. That's good - I was afraid you might have left without me ever getting a chance to say much more than "Hello," or "Which machine has a connection to this printer?"
Your smile lights up my whole day. We've barely met, exchanged "Hi, how are you"s and smiles and waves. I'd like to take you to lunch.
"But you're married," you point out.
"I said lunch," I return with a smile. "Just lunch."
"Why?"