She’d seen his phone screen and the photograph that Jess had sent him the week before. Ben had shifted the icons around so that her smile beamed in its centre. Both eyes were scrunched up tight, giving his heart a little jump.

‘Aoife,’ he replied, smiling until it switched to black. ‘She’s mine.’

‘Cute,’ was all Chloe said.

She wasn’t chatty like the day before and of that Ben was glad. Even the flowers knew to keep their petals closed until dawn. Besides, there would be time to talk later. The journey was long and the drive was the easiest part of it.

Ben had been queuing at a coffee shop, two days earlier, when his phone pinged with an email. The building was no bigger than his bathroom, its air moist from the milk steamer. A mirror on the left wall was eternally fogged up. Reflections were shapeless shadows led like blind mice to the churn of the freshly ground. A bronze bag of coffee beans and a fake plant had shared a shelf to Ben’s right. There had once been a Live, Laugh, Love sign between them but someone had the common sense to remove it. This wasn’t the time or place. Maybe there were those out there, somewhere, who had a love life and liked to laugh about it. But wherever they were, looking back through the queue, they weren’t buying coffee that morning.

It was another routine Monday whose dreary skies fitted the mood. Streets were stained black with rain and blocked on both sides with delivery vans, all indicators flashing. The working-class machine had groaned to life, spluttering out bodies. Shopfronts were half-lit but not yet open, glowing like vending machines in the gloom. A few cold, managerial fingers blundered with their keys while their minions watched on, already wishing away the next eight hours of their lives. Others were walking at a pace somewhere between a walk and a jog, like soldiers assembling for a war they didn’t really believe in.

Ben had three minutes to spare before he would be late for work again. But his manager wouldn’t call him on it. She never did, and he respected that about her if nothing else. Hers was a more nuanced approach to chastisement: a long look at the clock or some arbitrary reminder about his upcoming performance review. Sometimes she would just smile sadly at his coffee.