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I wanted to speak to her. She seemed nice. But I was a little afraid. Afraid of the way she wore her hair. Intimidated by the colour of her nail polish and the shade of lipstick she usually preferred. I wanted to walk into rooms wearing stilettos like her, without a single sound. But i stumbled into rooms. Elegance was lost on me. I had heard rumours about her though. She was evil reincarnated in the board room and a devil in the bedroom. One couldn’t always believe the rumours but I could imagine her that way. I waited on her everyday, hoping that her spunk would transfer to me unconsciously. But I was also terrified of the baggage she carried. She had grace in her attitude and a I-don’t-care strut. She must know all the rumours or truths floating around about her. Yet, she held her head high and did what she did best. Her job. Being single was tough. The ruthless environment we worked in was worse. I couldn’t pull that off. I preferred cowering in her shadow. I wanted to speak to her but I held my tongue.