It was hot, the office was small. The Boss laughed and lit another cigarrette, blowing smoke into the stale air.

She walked in, yelled at the Boss, turned on her fashionable heel, and left in a huff. It was her office.

"Very passionate, Italian women," said the Boss, shrugging.

"She is passionate, yes," I said, watching her walk away.

She agreed to drinks.

She agreed to dinner.

She was brilliant. She was beautiful.

"She is passionate," I said to myself, watching her gather her things and rush off to a morning meeting. "She is a lot of other things, too."