I hadn’t been alone in there since I’d cleared Dr Williams’s stuff. It was dark, unsettling. Still carried his ghost. Aside from dead bosses, there was something so satisfying about being inside your life without your knowledge. I scanned the area. Nothing unusual, just your regular doctor things. I stroked your navy suit jacket, which you’d left behind, hung on the back of the door. Sniffed the sleeve. Remembering the scent you’d once left on me. On your desk was a mug of half-drunk tea which you hadn’t asked me to make. I touched the outside. It was still warm, and I slowly weaved my fingers through the handle and brought it to my lips. Covering exactly where I imagined yours to have been. It was nowhere near as nice as the ones I made you. Because no one else cared about getting it right, like I did.

Catching sight of the clock, I became conscious of the time, so quickly replaced the mug, rubbing off the lipstick I’d forgotten I was wearing, and dropped the file onto your desk before turning to leave.

Then I remembered I needed to attach a note as, once photocopied, the colourful pie chart had transformed into a dark grey circle. I allowed my bag to fall to the floor and grabbed the stack of Post-its next to your open diary.

It was then I did the first of two things. Both of which were bad. I tried so hard not to, but before I knew it, I was flicking through your diary. Mrs Carter . . . Mrs Johnson . . . I turned the page. There was an entry that just said, Sarah, and a phone number. I found myself scribbling it down onto one of the Post-its, tearing it off the block and placing it in my pocket. My heart quickened as I then wrote the note I’d intended. Page four. Pie chart didn’t . . . The pen died on me halfway through the sentence. Frustrated, I grabbed the only other biro in the holder. As you had your fancy pen, you were probably oblivious to the fact none of them worked. This one was even worse, making only an inscription. I rolled it angrily in my hands. Scrubbed it across a page to encourage ink, but nothing. So I opened the drawer. Scrambled around the elastic bands and medical gadgets. Then I saw it. The bright red of the plastic fob. The spare keys that had brought us together that day. I put it out of my mind and continued my search.