It wasn't only Melissa's physical appearance that made Alison itch to hit her, her fingers twitching in anticipation of curling into a fist.
When Alison thought about it, some of Melissa's individual features weren't that bad, pale blonde hair, button nose, but her pale skin really did look like it had the consistency of lard; like you could poke a finger into it and leave a dent, greasily glistening at the edges.
No, it was the permanent air of martyrdom that really annoyed Alison, it was like everything was just too much trouble for her; how on earth can you deal with employees like that?
Melissa had pushed the pile of paperwork away from her again, sighing in a little-girl breathy way that she must think cute or something; and the height of the pile had not noticeably changed since the last time she'd done so.
Alison glanced at the clock, right on cue, almost exactly thirty minutes after her last fag break, Melissa said "Oh, I'm going cross-eyed looking at these invoices, I need a cigarette."
And she was; Alison hadn't really noticed Melissa's eyes until now, and now she wondered if each time Melissa made the same excuse, her eyes shifted that little bit more out of line until now it was discernable?