A little drabble

Note: This is the first bit of non-science writing I've done in at least a year and a half. I was looking at a writing prompt site (don't know why, I have too much science writing to do) when I got the idea for this. It's small (just under 4300 words), and it's rough. Be gentle -- my ego is fragile of late.


Lost and Found - by Dawn M. Allenbach
8 December 2008
Original drabble
Rated: G


It was the most unusual "Lost and Found" ad I'd ever seen.

I was in the breakroom, grabbing a Reese's while waiting for some samples to run in the lab, when I saw what looked like a sheet of paper torn from a spiral notebook pinned to the bulletin board. It half-covered the ad for selling Avon that had been hanging there for months, and it looked like it had been written in a child's hand.

Lost - Kindness
Everyone rushes too fast
Please say something nice
to the next person you see

"Well, that's not so hard," I muttered to myself around a bite of peanut butter and chocolate. I walked out of the breakroom with a smile, already planning the nice thing I was going to say while peeling away the rest of the paper from my first Reese's cup. I was chewing happily and not really paying attention as I walked around a corner heading for the elevator. I hit something solid - I hit it hard - and was knocked off my new knee-high boots onto my rear end. Fortunately, the Bureau had required even us lab rats to take self-defense, so I knew how to shift my weight and land on my gluteus maximus and not on my tailbone. It still hurt, though, when I landed with an undignified "Oof!" and my legs sprawled.

"I'm sorry," a pleasant male voice said from somewhere above me. A hand appeared in front of my face, and I put the hand not still holding my candy bar into it. It was a bit hard getting back up onto my three inch heels with the support of only one hand, and I tottered for a moment until another hand caught me around the waist to steady me.

"There you are," the voice said cheerfully. "You're good to go."

I finally looked up into the face of the brick wall, and I nearly choked on the little bit of candy still in my mouth. Of all people to look like a idiot in front of, why did it have to be my Secret Agent Crush?

I must have had a funny look on my face, because he looked me up and down thoroughly from my purple-striped hair to my leather-clad toes before asking, "Are you OK?"

I nodded probably a little too quickly and managed a strangled, "Uh huh." It was the peanut butter stuck in my throat. Really.

He stuck out his hand. "I'm Michael."

"I know," I replied. My brain was all mushy and didn't make me move to shake his hand until he'd already awkwardly taken it back and shoved it in his pocket. "You work serials," was all I could think of to say.

He studied me closely. "You teased apart all those trace and DNA samples on the Chickasaw case last year." I nodded, proudly remembering the two papers I'd gotten out of that case. He smiled. "Wasn't your hair all green then?"

I nodded again, smiling that he remembered. He returned the smile and said, "That was good work . . . ?"

I was so caught up with how the fluorescents played with the blue and green in his eyes that it took me almost ten full seconds to realize he was fishing for my name. "Oh! Um, Polly. My name's Polly."

"Polly." He said it a couple more times, like he was testing the sound of it. "Nice to meet you."

He held out his hand again, and this time I took it. He held it for a few seconds, and I stood there alternating between trying not to laugh like a socially awkward fool and trying to think of something witty to say. My mind showed me the breakroom "Lost" ad again. "I like your tie," I said before I could stop myself. Did I ever mention witty isn't really in my repertoire? As his lips began to crinkle into a smile, I shoved the rest of my Reese's into his hand. "Have my other peanut butter cup," I muttered as I moved quickly past him for the elevator and my safe third floor lab.

I was almost to the lift when I heard, "Hey, Purple Polly!" Dreading the amused look I knew he'd have on his face but dreading more that he'd think me a coward, I turned back even as I reached for the up button. He was smiling, but not in the "she's a geek" way I thought he would be. His dimples were fully on show, and he raised the peanut butter cup to his mouth and asked, "Would you allow me to buy you a cup of coffee later?"

"No," I responded as I stepped into the elevator. I leaned around the door. "I will allow you to buy me a cup of tea, though." His broad smile as he nodded and headed for the breakroom nearly undid my knees.

No, being kind isn't so hard at all.