Helen was always the first in the office. The chief secretary was her high-yielding title, but she was the only secretary of Director Borstedt. For over 17 years already. Actually, girls would fit better for everything, because she was exactly that. And she liked it. For secretly she loved her director from the first moment.
What a stereotype. Little Büromöchen loves the big boss.
But Helen and her director were different. Whenever she talked to her friends about "her director", the others laughed at the table.
"Why do not you tell him, girl?"
It was just one of the teats that Helen had to go through. "Girls," that was one thing. They were all no longer girls. Adult women, they were. No one was more than forty, but all of them had more or less happily married. Except for Helen. She still dreamed like a twelve-year-old from her director.
She did everything for him. Get suits from cleaning, choose ties, once he had once again selected a particularly horrible one, schedule appointments. Occasionally she prepared a meal for him; Even at his home, when he had guests and a caterer seemed to be overpopulated. She was actually like a wife, only without the tenderness and love that a husband gives to his wife.
He was nearly ten years older than Helen, but he did not look at him. His staff liked him all. Only one liked him. Not until the director's wife died unexpectedly. Cancer with 34, actually not to believe, but nevertheless happens. The hole in which their director fell then could not spill Helen for a long time. It took him years to get a real smile in his eyes again. The wrong smile on the lips was intended only for customers and business partners. Helen, however, always saw that her eyes had never reached her.
He was always right to her. He never had anything special about him. Even though Helen might want something from time to time. Not the exquisite! She did not know exactly what it was. He touched her now and then friendly. He thanked her when it was appropriate and for birthday and Christmas there were always nice gifts. Personally chosen by him. Otherwise Helen always had to pick and deliver all the gifts.
But the next step never came. The decisive word more, the clear gesture. The hint that Helen would have needed to come out of the snail's house and go to her director.
But one day a letter lay at the bottom of the mailbox. "Helen" simply stood in his handwriting. This had never happened before. The director had been out of house since morning, and Helen did her work as usual. She opened the envelope, read the contents, and fell to the visitor's chair, which was behind her. Tears were in her eyes, tears of joy.
The letter began thus: "My faithful Helen, much too long already ..."
And he finished with: "Helen, I love you."
The call was forwarded five minutes later directly from the headquarters to the director's office, where Helen was still sitting with the letter in her hand. She looked out the window and was happy. When she accepted the conversation, her eyes were dry again.
"Yes please, office director Borstedt?" She announced as usual.
"Chief commissar Wagner is my name, third area, I have to tell you that there was an accident, about an hour ago, the Mercedes, which was registered for your company, was rammed by a truck, the driver and the passenger in the rear Were both dead immediately. Can you tell me who had been in the car at the time? "
Helen dropped the receiver and there were tears again in her eyes.