Like mine, in fact. I didn’t really notice at the time because her hair wasn’t as long as mine; it was only later when all the little details started falling into place that I realized her hair was the same color as mine. Then she started pulling it into a ponytail on top of her head to keep it out of her way while she worked out. Guess who also pulled her hair up like that while working out?

I don’t wear much makeup while at work because it’s a waste of time; if a girl glows enough, the makeup disappears. Besides, I’ve got good skin and nice dark brows and lashes, so I don’t worry about going bare-faced. I do, however, have a fondness for glistening lotion that makes my skin take on a subtle sheen. Nicole asked me what kind of lotion I used and, like an idiot, I told her. The next day, Nicole’s skin had a sheen.

Her workout clothes began to look like mine: leotards and leg warmers while I’m actually in the gym, with yoga pants pulled on when I was cruising around overseeing operations. Nicole began to wear leotards and leg warmers, otherwise bouncing around in yoga pants. And I do mean bouncing. I don’t believe she owned a bra. Unfortunately, she was one of those women who should. My male members (I love saying that) seemed to like the spectacle, but all that jiggling and swaying gave me vertigo, so if I had to talk to her, I concentrated on maintaining eye contact.

Then she got a white convertible.

It wasn’t a Mercedes, it was a Mustang, but still-it was white, it was a convertible. How much more obvious could she get?

Maybe I should have been flattered, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t as if Nicole liked me and was copying me out of admiration. I think she hated my guts. She overdid the fake sweetness when she talked to me, you know?