“Yeah, that’s right. I’m allergic to you,” she muttered under her breath to no one in particular as she watched Phil Peters walk away from the water cooler in order to catch up to the passing ample sway of Georgina Johnson’s hips – which always seemed to be in some kind of competition with her tight knit skirts for space.

She continued to appear very involved in stirring the Cup-a-Soup she had just filled with hot water but inside her heart plummeted several stories to its usual bed of disappointment and resentment as she once again caught her own narrow, rather restrained-looking hips from the corner of her eye.

And upon hearing the annoying tinkle of Georgina’s thin, high-pitched laugh – the laugh she only pulled out for unsuspecting admirers – she turned her back to them both and made a beleaguered beeline for her desk.

Inspired by The Daily Word prompt: allergic