Blueberry

She always had a certain sway in her walk. Her hips went back and forth like a pendulum, each inch of her curves wrapped in that tight black dress she always wore at the office. Sometimes she caught me looking. With big round eyes she'd stare back at me and smirk, flicking her black bob-cut hair back as she walked away, never looking away. Alice was her name. A short, fierce, beautiful creature. I'd watched her at my lunch break with loving eyes, my attentiveness oft noticed by my co-workers. They weren't surprised.

The office “holiday” party had been going on for over an hour. And although it was scheduled to run for at least another two hours, Charlotte didn’t think she could last that long. The introduction of alcohol into the party had caused her generally tolerable co-workers to become, well, less than tolerable. It had become painfully clear to Charlotte that at least a third of her co-workers were lightweights when it came to alcohol. On top of that, it was also clear to her as to what kind of drunks each of her co-workers were.