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Rated: E · Other · Contest Entry · #1809775
Don't trip up.
I turned a corner on my way to the copy room and there she was – I practically tripped over her. She was folded like a swan’s neck down there on the floor, fingers wrapping around a pencil she’d apparently dropped on the grey office carpet. I couldn't see her face, but the soft red cascades of hair billowing down around her shoulders meant it could be only one person. “Jessica!” I exclaimed. “Man, I almost ran you over!”

She looked up at me and it felt like a blue lamp suddenly lighting up a room. She rose like Vivien emerging from the lake to hand King Arthur his destiny. My vision swam.

“Roger,” she breathed. Now what? I thought. I wanted to paddle away down the hall but had a feeling I was dead in the water. “I’ve been looking for you. I’m dancing on Saturday and can you come? Can you?” I looked away from those aqua eyes and stared at the earring – a miniature white ballet shoe -- nestled in her hair. “And that friend of yours who writes reviews for the paper – can you get him to come, too?”

I dropped my stare to more ballet shoes prancing on the scarf flowing down from her shoulders. I could talk about that, I thought (“Nice scarf, Jessica.”), but it was no use. I had to answer the question. My mind zipped around. If I brought Amy, how would I explain why I wanted to go, and who Jessica was? And if I didn’t bring Amy, how would I explain where I wanted to go alone on a Saturday night?

Jessica looked over both shoulders, then back at me. “We could go for a drink afterwards,” she whispered.

No way, I thought. Poison. “Okay,” I said. “See you Saturday.”

(Word count: 300)
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