The Cubicle Next Door Read Online Free PDF

happened when I mentally unzipped his flight suit and left him standing there in his underwear. I stopped laughing.
    “Are you okay?”
    “What? Oh. Yes. I just…I mean…they don’t bother you? To wear them?”
    He plucked the package from my hands and set it on top of the small box he was already carrying. “No more than it would bother me to keep tucking my shirt in all the time. Ready?” Joe walked to the cash register, flashed his ID, and scanned the front of the Air Force Times while the sale was rung up. He’d gotten new shoulder boards for his formal uniform, his mess dress. Dark blue with an oak leaf and two stripes, embellished with silver braid and embroidery.
    He tucked the bag under his arm and was out the door before I could catch up. “I hate having to buy these things. I’ll probably use them twice before I retire. And they were thirty-five dollars.”
    “But you’re a pilot. You’re supposed to be rich.”
    “Tell my bank account. And it’s not about the money; it’s about the principle. If they’re going to require me to wear a uniform like this, that has to be changed every time I pin on a new rank, then at least it ought to be affordable. I’ve probably spent a hundred and fifty dollars on shoulder boards alone. And five hundred on the uniform.”
    “Versus the flight suit…?”
    “Which is issued.”
    “Well, that’s tough.”
    He laughed as he beeped the SUV doors open. Then he cut in front of me to open my door.
    We retraced our route and turned this time between the commissary and the BX. Tucked beside the commissary was a Burger King.
    And as always, during the lunch hour, it was packed. We waited in line for 20 minutes and then waited another 15 for our food. You’d think with so many uniformed personnel bunched up, staring at the counter, waiting for food, the staff would move a little faster. Especially when a pair of military cops with guns gets thrown into the mix.
    They never do.
    Finally, we slouched into a booth, sitting opposite each other. Joe swiveled, resting a knee on the bench and leaning up against the wall.
    I hooked my finger around an onion ring and slipped it into my mouth.
    Hot! I grabbed my Coke and took a swallow.
    “You seem a little touchy about the ghost and goblin thing.”
    I shook the rest of the onion rings onto the paper tray liner to cool. “I’m not. Everyone else seems to be.”
    “Everyone else who?”
    “All the Christians in town.”
    “So you’re not one?”
    “Christian? I am. But it doesn’t mean I have to be afraid of people who aren’t. People are people. Just because they don’t believe the same things I do doesn’t mean they’re not worth knowing. Or living next to. Where are you living, anyway?”
    His eyes changed hues. Seemed to lighten. He named a street which was just one street up and three blocks over from me. “We could carpool.”
    Yes, I’m wash-and-wear. Yes, I’m a zealous recycler and very big into reducing my impact on the environment, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say yes. “No.”
    “We could meet on Saturday mornings downtown for breakfast.”
    “No.”
    “Or lunch.”
    “You mean like a standing date?”
    “Yeah.”
    “No. I don’t do dates.” Something in his eyes made me want to take my words back. Maybe he didn’t know anyone in town yet. “I also help Grandmother at the shop on Saturdays.”
    “Which one?”
    There was no point in lying. Even if I told him Antique Bazaar or Canterbury Gifts, he’d still be able to figure it out. All he’d have to say is, “But Jackie told me her grandmother…” and he’d probably be escorted straight to the shop. “Alpen Ski.”
    “For cross-country skiing, right?”
    Nordic, cross-country, XC, there wasn’t any difference. I nodded. “ Only for cross-country.”
    “Great! That’s what I want to do this winter. Get a pair of cross-country skis and head to Mueller.”
    “Why don’t you try snowshoeing? No lessons required; just strap