She had a way of walking in the office, like a ship coming into a harbor. You’d crane your neck out of whatever cubicle, cabin or cage you were in, just to see the event of her walking away. The gentle sashay of hips that promised so much, but never fulfilled. She had click click clicked her heels down the halls for almost a year, but it never lost its luster. Each step was like the first, and oh, how’d you wish those satin clicks would stop outside your door. Instead, they traced an audible map to the powder room.

Full short here:
http://wattsthemighty.tumblr.com/post/11942498125/the-quiet-desperation