She likes things orderly.

The world is messy, but her corner of it is as orderly as she can make it.

Her favorite moments at work are when she's using her ledger. Straight columns, sensible rows, perfect balance.

Except for this summer, but she's mostly blocked that out already - she highlighted a few digits, and pressed delete, and wished she could do the same with the expressions on Kevin's and Oscar's faces.

Sometimes (well, nearly always) she wishes her coworkers would take notice of her example, and make an effort to follow it. Dwight is the only one who seems to take his work seriously.

But today, they're all insufferable, so when her computer reads 12:30, she retrieves her lunch, and marches to the picnic table downstairs.

x x x x x

She likes things neat.

The world is fucked up, but her place in it is as neat as she can make it.

The best part of her job is when she gets to shelve boxes. Tidy stacks, even layers, clean lines.

Except for the time Michael wrecked the place, but that was a while ago - she wasn't one of the guys that day, but she was still part of the warehouse crew, so she'd stayed late with them to put everything right again.

Some days (okay, most days) she wishes the guys in the ‘house would get a clue, and give more of a shit. Darryl's the only one who seems to care how the place looks when he leaves for the day.

But today, they're all dumbasses, so when the alarm sounds for break, she grabs her lunch, and heads to the picnic table around the corner.

x x x x x

When they see one another, both freeze, panicking a little.

"Madge."

"Angela."

Angela looks nervously around for the second picnic table she knows doesn't exist. When she looks back, Madge has just done the same thing. It's ridiculous.

"I'm sure we can just share this one."

"Yeah, okay."

x x x x x

Everything in Angela's lunch is an elementary shape. Square bread, round fruit, triangular crackers. Madge remembers her favorite toy growing up - the blue and red ball that she could push yellow shapes into, then pull the handles, and do it all over.

x x x x x

Everything about Madge's appearance suggests good sense. Short nails, ruddy skin, steel-toed boots. Angela is reminded of her favorite uncle - the one who would empty his spare change into her small hands, and let her sort and count it for him.

x x x x x

"You don't eat out here much."

"No, I don't."

Madge waits for her to add to that, then goes back to her sandwich.

Angela shrugs. "I mean, it seemed nice out today. So."

Madge nods. She thinks Angela just shrugged, but her shoulders barely moved, so she can't be sure.

"I usually eat on the dock, but the guys are being real shits today. So."

Angela tries to keep her lips from pursing, and almost succeeds.

Madge doesn't notice. "I mean, how hard is it to keep the bathroom clean, huh? We might as well just have a hole in the floor, for all they care."

She looks up to find Angela looking at her in a way that makes her brace herself for a lecture.

"Sorry, not exactly lunchtime conversa-"

"No, I know exactly what you mean. Someone upstairs keeps spilling creamer in the refrigerator, and they don't clean it up, of course, so it just gets stinky and sticky and... yellow."

"Stinky and sticky and yellow. Sounds about right."

Angela chokes a little, then clears her throat. "They just don't care. I don't understand that."

"Me neither. And when I call them on it, they treat me like a bossy older sister."

"Yes." Angela wonders why she's never noticed that Madge always wears a french braid.

Madge's hand moves involuntarily to her hair. "Is it coming out? I usually have a few bobby pins to keep everything in line, but my cats batted them all under the couch last night."

"You have cats?"

"Two. You?"

"Three. I've always found dogs to be too... needy."

Madge smiles. "Exactly."

They eat in comfortable silence until Madge checks her watch. "Ah, 12:55, time to get back."

Angela wants to suggest meeting for lunch tomorrow, but she doesn't.

"Well, have a good afternoon."

"Mm. You, too."

As she walks back to the warehouse, Madge thinks she'd like to see the guys try to pull their crap with Angela. She chuckles at the thought, and decides to tell Angela the next time she sees her.

Maybe tomorrow.