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The beginning of a short story about a man who falls in love in an unlikely place.

The waiting room was empty.  All the morose souls were presently receiving the medical care that they required or thought thereof.  The indiscriminating chairs gathered were slightly askew from their normal strategic placement and empty beverage bottles and fast food wrappers littered the beige floor.  The lighting was certainly more comfortable than the images of the droning florescent lights usually seen in movies but the unflattering light still irradiated all the same.  The room was vacant other than the two staff members, the triage tech and the registration clerk.  They engaged in small talk but from the outside looking in one would never suspect that the two had anything in common other than receiving pay from the same institution.  After a while the registration clerk arose to get a cup of coffee leaving the triage tech by himself.  He sat at the desk in the aquarium like annex of the emergency room known as triage. He stared at specific spots in order to close his peripheral vision so he could make sure that if anyone who entered his area he reserved the right to ignore them and claim that he simply did not see them.  When meeting the eyes of a patient or any other person who entered the hospital you would be expected to know the location of any person or diagnosis an existing ailment on demand.  He sat and stared thinking of how he was going to make it through 3 more hours of work when he first noticed her.  She was wearing a hospital volunteer uniform not much different from a generic environmental service work garment.  The colors were much brighter of course seemingly to convey positive attitudes or simply to separate from the others who usually were associated with the frequent unpleasantness of medicine, who wore darker colors.  He first noticed her hands which were clutching a used white cotton towel and a unlabeled spray bottle.  Her hands, he would explain, were somewhat of a self supporting entity that her arms seemed to follow without hesitation.  Carefully and methodically she misted two or three chairs at a time then wiped  the residual sickness from where the walking dead were previously seated awaiting entrance into the back.  She went through each surface three times paying special attention to the joints where the armrests met the bottom and backs of the chairs.  He admired her attention to detail; moreover, he was fixated on her hands which were strong and delicate in each stroke.  They were clean but ungloved which was somewhat bothersome.  Her arms were long and lean devoid of excess muscle tone which he could only describe as being milky and smooth.  Her hair was dirty blond and somewhat disheveled which he loved.  She bore her hard work which tried to make her look tired without success; she was a worker and that was f*****g sexy. She projected a feminine nature that seemed to make want to crawl under the desk .  Chair to chair she continued until one point her brown eyes met his transfixed gaze and she quickly shifted her eyes back down, but he caught a mischievous smile growing on her face.  She seemed to slow her pace at this time, however she still continued her purposeful work. This was the first time that he saw her and he prayed that this wouldn’t be the last.  An impulse gave birth to an idea, then to a thought, then to a burden that day.