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She knew that Andy put in his all for her. The ring on her finger was brighter than the fireworks, still going off in the parking lot. Angela could practically see him out the window, smiling widely, as if he couldn't believe just how well his life was going.

Straightening her cardigan, she looked over at Dwight, who was doing up the last few buttons on his shirt. Andy Bernard had nothing on Dwight, in any one of the departments Angela measured by.

"She saw us," she breathed, looking up to meet his eyes. "Phyllis saw us, D."

"You have to tell him, Monkey," Dwight said, catching her about the elbow. "You have to break it off."

Fixing a cold glare on him, Angela shook Dwight’s hand off her arm. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I can’t.”

He didn’t ask again; he never asked again. Quietly, Dwight replaced the hand on her elbow.

“We can go home tonight, but, tomorrow, you have to call Phyllis and keep her quiet,” he said finally.

Keeping her cool composure despite the violent thudding of her heard, Angela nodded. “Okay. I’ll - I’ll tell Andy I’m leaving.

“I’ll tell Mose to stay out of the house,” Dwight said, flipping his cell phone open.

Standing on the tips of her toes, Angela went to kiss Dwight. He wove a hand into her hair and sighed, bending down to press his lips on hers.

A rush of emotion flooded Angela, and she inhaled deeply. Every inch of her prickled with sensation. A touch to his arm, and he was gone, relaying patient instructions to Mose.

Angela managed a rare smile, straightening a photo of her and Philip. She bent to do her routine check on Bandit, who had a permanent home in an empty drawer behind her.

Cooing softly, Angela bent to stroke his head. She had doubted the insulation of the drawer at first, fearing that Bandit would be suffocated. It proved to be quite the opposite.

Only one photo on her desk entertained the notion that Angela had more family than all thirty of her cats. Older, and framed in beech, it was a blurry shot of her, Rachael, and Natalie. Exactly why she was angry at Natalie now, she didn’t know.

After pushing the drawer in and righting the photo, Angela brushed imaginary dust from her skirt and left the office. She had her gardening clothes in the Focus.

Skirting Kevin on the stairs, Angela hurried down. Raucous laughter filled the warm night. Andy, with sparks reflecting in his blue eyes, cake over to her. Angela suppressed a sigh.

“Andy,” she said coolly, and his face lit up.

“Ang, hey. I was about to get out the guitar and warm up the ol’ pipes. Staying to watch?”

“No, I - I came to tell you that I’m leaving. Going home.”

She heard a snort in the distance, and turned to see Phyllis, hanging off the arm of that husband of hers. Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration. Parading him around like there was no tomorrow.

“Oh, really?” Andy asked tentatively, drawing her attention back to him. “I was really thinking that you could stay at my place tonight.”

One appraising look was all it took to silence him. Meekly, Andy nodded, and walked dejectedly back to where some of the others stood. That was why she would never fully be his; he gave in too easily.

That was why Dwight Schrute was the man for her.

She climbed into her car and backed out of the parking lot, ignoring Pam and her tiny wave. A slut and nothing more, that woman was, for sleeping with two men in the office.

The drive to Dwight’s farm wasn’t more than an hour or two away. Angela kept her eyes on the road, sighing intermittently. Unwanted titillation exhausted her.

Parking was less of a hassle than it had been the first few times; once she realized the spots where Mose couldn’t see the Focus. Angela opened the trunk and took out a backpack that stood the test of time.

In it were some gardening clothes, stained red by her zinnias, and a pack of condoms. Angela wasn’t naïve; as a woman, she needed to keep them on hand.

The weathervane spun to the east, and she leaned on her car and watched. Aside from the creaking of the roof, Dwight’s farm was soothingly silent. She ran a hand through her ponytail.

Maybe she made a mistake. Maybe she should have turned him down, and let go of her stupid pride. He could take rejection; Andy had proved that to the ends of the earth.

The hum of Dwight’s car engine drew her out of her thoughts. He pulled up beside her, and Angela stood straight. She would feel prepared to confront Phyllis after a night of lovemaking.

”Monkey,” Dwight acknowledged, and she unconsciously fit her hand into the crook of his arm.

”I love you,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked, eyes squinting with effort.

“I love you,” Angela said, and listened as the words reverberated through the farm.

Dwight sighed. “I love you, too. Keep it down, or I won’t be able to stop Mose from leaving the barn.”

Rapt with attention, Angela let him lead her inside. When the door closed, he undid the top button of her cardigan.

“It’s chilly outside, isn’t it?” she offered.

Dwight said nothing, in favor of kissing her fiercely. Stars sparked across Angela’s vision, and she took a deep breath, swinging her arms around his neck.

They maneuvered themselves up the stairs and into bed, where they made love like animals, loud and full of passion. Angela could share this with nobody else, nobody but Dwight K. Schrute, who she loved.

The next morning, she woke up when the sun rose, in a bed that smelled like hay, beside a man who blinked at her before climbing out of bed.

Just another day on Dwight Schrute’s farm.



skylinesunflowers is the author of 1 other stories.



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