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...suppose is why she got moved to floor twenty-one this morning, instead of being stuck up here with us losers.

12.00pm, practically running out of the office, cha-cha-ing past the men getting up to make there Cup-O-Soups and through the door, down the corridor where women re-applied thier perfumes and to the elevator. The beautiful elevator with my wonderful packet of cigarettes.

Then I saw her, coming out of what we nick-named "The Dungeon"
She was in a beautifully well tailored red suit and her chocolate hair fell just below her shoulders.
Her face was, stunning. She was stunning. I had to turn away to stop my gawping and for me to resist the urge of making a complete idiot of myself.

She was better than Claire. I hope she got Claire's job.
Remembering my mis-matched suit, I was immediately embarressed beyond belief, and when she sympathically smiled at me after clocking on to it herself,  I prayed the floor would swallow me up.

Red-Suit notices button for the lift isn't pushed.

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