Frazer grumbled to herself and flicked the kettle on. It was going to be a long, gross day. Her phone was lit up with messages—her friends, asking why she’d disappeared, Jemma wanting to have lunch if Frazer wasn’t too busy seducing married women. A simple click of a button sent Jemma a photo of Frazer pulling a certain finger at the camera. Eyes blurry and fingers clumsy, she dropped her phone in the sink. It clattered, hollow sounding and loud, and made her jump. In a burst of frustration, she left it there.

She dug through her cupboards and remembered she’d run out of real coffee yesterday and had meant to get more.

Before she’d gone to the bar, got drunk, and acted out like a teenager.

Scowling, she pulled out the instant coffee and doled some into a mug. The milk sloshed on the kitchen bench when she poured it into her cup without paying attention, and the steam from the kettle burnt her hand.

In the sink, her phone vibrated against the metal, and she ignored it.

The first sip of coffee should have been glorious, but she’d messed it up, and it was lukewarm. Maybe she liked her shower like that, but coffee either had to be bordering on blistering or filled with ice. In the middle was just blasphemy.

With a clenched jaw, she dumped the contents in the sink. And shrieked when she’d realised her phone was still there.

Frazer had been awake for all of thirty minutes.

This day was already stupid.

She took a deep breath. Then another.

With a huff, she got her things together and got out the door to make her way to work.

Somehow her phone was okay. It smelt vaguely like coffee, but Frazer had apparently grabbed it out fast enough. The skin of her arm stung where the steam had hit it, but she just ignored the pain.

When she got to the hospital intact, the thought that maybe the day had turned around crossed her mind. Until she stepped out of her car, clutching a drive-through coffee to her chest and saw Lauren getting out of her mini just five meters away. The poor woman gave an awkward wave, and in an attempt to make everything less horrible, Frazer quickly waved back. The coffee fell to the ground and sloshed all over her white shoes.

For a second, Frazer closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Tried to remember she wasn’t the crying type.

“Shit, Frazer. Was that coffee full?”

Another breath in. Slowly this time. Slowly out. She opened her eyes and stared down. Her shoes were now brown, and she stood in a slowly growing puddle of what had been piping hot coffee. “Yeah, it was.”

“Want me to buy you another?” Lauren was staring at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

Because she felt pathetic, Frazer nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

They fell into step.