B. Handy
Copyright B. Handy 2011
Published at Smashwords

Degrees of Love
By B. Handy

My hands burned through the thick leather of the gloves, every time, but it always led to something that made it all worthwhile. My craft, everything I worked for, it amounted to something that would become even better for another.
Fuck. That feels second degree. I need to get to a first aid kit.
Phillip wandered away from his workbench, cradling his injured palm. He could feel the skin contused and preparing to blister. That one’s gonna bubble up nasty like.
It was then that he heard the whistle on the steel room floor that signaled lunch time. It would be a wasted one; time in the infirmary after all. Steel-toed boots stomped towards the on-call nurse’s office.
Phillip felt his brain twitch as he used his left hand to open the door, that which he would normally open with his injured right. A Spanish woman sat at the desk. No paper hat. No white dress. She did have nurse’s shoes though, so there was that. Her black hair was pulled tight in a bun at the nape of her neck and her brown, doe eyes rested on her newest patient with mild confusion and a hint of concern.
“What seems to be the problem? Wait, let me guess Phillip; another burn?” 
“You got me. I know, I should replace those gloves, but what can I say? They’re family.” Steel workers often kept their tools decades beyond their last days of safe usefulness.
Extending his hand to Maria, Phillip thought, that’s right. Maria. He occasionally got her confused with two other nurses on call; the shifts seldom stayed on a consistent schedule and the youngest woman, Cassandra, even styled her hair the same way. They both had spicy accents which further mixed them together, but this one was Maria. It said so on her nametag.
She took his hand in hers, examining the severity of the burn. Severity, yeah, it was going to look like shit the next day, but it would be healthy shit.
“So when do you get off today?” Phillip knew full well the woman was not involved but was very attractive.
Maria gave a half smile. “In about an hour, but it depends on Cassandra getting here on time.”
Phillip gave an internal cheer, his opening had presented itself. Speaking of openings- FUCK! Antiseptic had just been applied to the wound and it stung like hell.
Maria winced along with him; sympathy pain. “Sorry, hard part’s over. Let’s just get some cream on here and wrap it up.”
“So... you think maybe you’d wanna get a drink later?”
Maria paused in her minor triage; her eyes seemed to brighten in surprise, shocked that anyone would even bother to ask her out. She was dressed humbly, never wore makeup to work, and didn’t have the highest of self esteems or confidence. She was definitely not prepared for a proposition to get a drink. “Uh, okay.” She was also not prepared to give an eloquent response.
Phillip’s face split wide in a “special” kind of smile. He could barely contain his excitement. He had a crush of sorts on Maria for several years. They’d worked at the company together for just as long. He’d finally worked up the courage after a blistered and soon to be puss-filled, second-degree burn finally gave him an excuse to speak.