Fireworks and Facial Hair

I spent all day Friday thinking Hancho was going to ask me to shave. At about 5:15, my supervisor told me I should go home. I said the appropriate things and was getting ready to leave. Hancho looked at me and stood up. I announced that I was leaving and apologized. Hancho told me to wait and sit down. He and a couple other guys came over to talk to me, and I thought, “Shit. The skin on my face is going to be red and bumpy for a year.”

He asked me if I was free on Wednesday night, would I like to go out with him and some of the other guys in the office to watch the festival fireworks from a private, expensive VIP area in the park.

I felt pretty good leaving the office.

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