all is fair in love and war
"I know they're here somewhere…Bloody hell!"
Jane Simpson watches her colleague crawl across the laminate floor. Imogen's hands make a slapping sound as she frantically moves across the room, peering under the sofa and chairs. Her face is the colour of pomegranate seeds.
"They’ve just got to be here!" she moans.
Guests look away. Throats are uncomfortably cleared.
Jane's face reddens. What compelled her to host the company's holiday party?
"I’ve got to get home," Imogen whimpers. The desperation in her eyes is pitiful.
Jane looks down at Imogen, at her expensive clothes, her posh hairstyle. The promotion is hers now, surely.
"I'll hail you a cab," Richard from IT says, his voice thick with pity.
Imogen sways toward Richard. She leans her drunken frame against his shoulder.
The door closes. Guests breathe sighs of relief. Jane reaches into her pocket and tosses Imogen's car keys onto the table.