You know how sometimes you just… exist? Like, you wake up, you do the thing, you go home, you do the other thing, and it’s fine. It’s a good life, you know? Like, objectively. Married for fifteen years, three kids, a house, a job that’s steady, even if it’s kinda… dusty. I work at the library, and honestly, it’s mostly just putting books back, helping people find stuff, dealing with the occasional sticky page. It’s calm. And that’s what I *thought* I wanted, you know? Calm. But then… there’s this new person. She started a few months ago, like, shelving and doing the desk stuff. And you know how you just *see* someone? Not like, “oh, she’s pretty,” though she is, totally. But like, you *notice* them. She’s got this laugh, you know, it’s kinda quiet but it just sparkles? And her hair, it’s always just a little messy in a perfect way, like she just ran her fingers through it and it looks amazing. We started talking, just like, about work stuff, then like, what we watched last night, whatever. Small talk. And then one day, we were organizing the new fiction, and she just leaned over and was like, “Ugh, I swear these authors are just making up words now, right?” and she smiled, and I just… felt it. Like, this *zing*. And I haven't felt a zing in, I don't know, forever? Like, not since before the kids, before the minivan, before the whole ‘sensible shoes’ thing became my life. And I just kept thinking about it. Her smile. The way she looks at me when I suggest a book, like I’m actually saying something brilliant. Which I’m not, I’m literally just reading the blurb. And now it's like, I look forward to seeing her. I find excuses to go over to her section, like, “Hey, did we ever find that copy of… uh… *The Grapes of Wrath*?” and I already know we did, it’s literally on the shelf behind her. And she’ll just look up and smile and that little laugh? It’s just… it makes my chest feel all weird. Like, a good weird. A dizzy weird. And I catch myself just watching her sometimes, just doing her thing, and I get this feeling, like, almost a crush. A full-blown, stupid, high school crush. And I'm forty. FORTY. And married. For FIFTEEN years. And it’s a good marriage, you know? Like, he’s a good guy. We have a routine. But this? This is like, a completely different feeling. It’s like a secret little spark, and I’m just holding it in my hands, trying not to let anyone see it, especially not her. Because what do you even *do* with that? You don't just, like, tell your husband you have a crush on your female colleague, do you? And I don't even know what she thinks of me, probably just like, the older lady who helps with the Dewey Decimal System. But when she touches my arm to point at a shelf, or when we laugh about some ridiculous customer, I just… I don't even know. I just wanted to say it out loud, I guess. Or type it out. Because it’s just… it’s a lot. And I keep thinking about it. All the time.