As one June day slipped into the next, little things began to get away from her. One of her neighbors set a sack of mail he’d pulled from her overflowing mailbox outside her door. Her laundry piled up, and dust settled over her normally tidy condo. She got a cold and had trouble shaking it off.

One Friday morning her head ached so badly she called in sick for her volunteer tutoring and went to bed. Other than dragging herself outside long enough for Roo to do his business and occasionally forcing down a piece of toast, she slept all weekend.

When Monday came, her headache was gone, but the aftereffects of the cold had sapped her energy, so she phoned in sick again. Her bread box was empty, and she was out of cereal. She found some canned fruit in the cupboard.

On Tuesday morning as she dozed in bed, her sleep was disturbed by the buzzer from the lobby. Roo hopped to attention. Molly burrowed deeper into her covers, but just when she was falling back asleep, someone began pounding on her door. She pulled a pillow over her head, but it didn’t block out the deep, familiar voice clearly audible over the sound of Roo’s yips.

“Open up! I know you’re in there!”

That awful Kevin Tucker.

She sneezed and stuck her fingers in her ears, but Roo kept barking and Kevin kept banging. Miserable dog. Reckless, scary quarterback. Everyone in the building was going to complain. Cursing, she dragged herself out of bed.

“What do you want?” Her voice sounded creaky from lack of use.

“I want you to open the door.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.

“Tough. Unless you’d like everyone in this building to know your private business, I suggest you open up.”

Reluctantly, she flipped the lock. As she opened the door, she wished she were armed.

Kevin stood on the other side, dazzling and perfect with his healthy body, gleaming blond hair, and blazing green eyes. Her head pounded. She wanted to hide behind dark glasses.

He pushed his way past her snarling poodle and shut the door. “You look like hell.”

She stumbled over to the couch. “Roo, be quiet.”

The dog gave Molly an offended sniff as she lay down.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“I don’t need a doctor. My cold is almost gone.”

“How about a shrink?” He walked over to the windows and began opening them.

“Stop that.” It was bad enough that she had to endure his arrogance and the threatening glare of his good looks. She didn’t have to tolerate fresh air, too. “Will you go away?”

As he gazed around at her condo, she noticed the dirty dishes littering the kitchen counter, the bathrobe hanging over the end of the couch, and the dusty tabletops. He was an uninvited guest, and she didn’t care.

“You blew off the appointment with the attorney yesterday.”