|Melinda heard David coming down the row of cubicles, spewing his usual stream of morning complaints. She sighed, thinking how nice David was most of the time. Why did he have to act like such a jerk every morning? She looked beside her computer monitor to the Bono bobblehead. As always, the man she worshiped nodded agreement.
Just please don’t let him stop, she thought.
No such luck. She heard him pause at her cubicle.
“Uh, Melinda,” he said.
She spun her chair around. “Damn it, David, shut up!” she said, “Nobody wants to hear your morning commute horror stories.”
She noticed then the two tickets he was holding out towards her, and gulped.
“Sorry,” David said, obviously hurt. He turned to the cubicle across from hers. “Hey, Annette,” he said, “what would you say to front row for U2?”
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