Every time Bob texted me this week, I'd return a variation of Sorry Busy Work Can't Later Stressed Working Late Still No Sorry. I don't remember whether I sent him anything like that today, but while I was sorry-stressed-busy-working, a little vase of roses lowered onto my desk in front of me, then a smoothie from Panera... and there was That Bob. He was worried about me and had the day off, so he came to visit in the early afternoon and was my calm presence while I finished and sent a proposal, and my dining partner at ESPN Zone, and then my company while I worked on a report at home.
Apparently one of those texts he sent me promised he's make me feel better. And he's right, he did.
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