Of course the results are the same.

I would have fired me too.

Leaving the room, I make it two steps before Mark approaches with his trademark smile.

Panic stabs me in the gut, a cold and slimy blade. I won’t do this again.

Spinning away, I bolt in the opposite direction, but not before his cocky smile turns into a confused frown.

The hallway leads to a back door and I open it, ending up in a narrow alley next to a dumpster.

I can’t handle Mark today. Or any day. Definitely not sleeping with that guy ever again. I would rather jump in this stinking garbage than let him touch me again.

Just in case he follows me—though I doubt I’m worth the effort—I slip down the alley and stop where it merges into the sidewalk, leaning back against the brick wall to catch my breath.

I need to think. What do I do? How do I fix this? Why am I reliving the same day over and over and how do I get out of this . . . this loop?

Maybe I can fix my phone and call someone. But who?

My parents would be like, Oh Jane, having a nervous breakdown. Again. I don’t need another lecture about all my problems and everything wrong with my life. All they want to hear from me is good news about being successful. Something I have yet to accomplish, really, which is why I avoid their calls.

I could call Eloise.

My sister. Maybe I could . . . no. I can’t face her yet.

I have nothing else to do. But if I can get my phone fixed up, I can access the internet to research or something.

I take a train back to Emeryville and stop at the electronics store in the shopping center near my apartment.

“Can you help me fix my phone?” I ask the brunette woman behind the counter.

She tinkers with it, opening the case and pulling out the battery and trying different things I already tried yesterday that didn’t work.

She puts a new battery in, but it still doesn’t turn on. “Everything seems to be in order. Must be some kind of internal defect. We can order a new one to be shipped out overnight. You’ll have it by tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning,” I repeat.

“Yes. That’s the soonest we can get a replacement to you.”

“Right.” A giggle bubbles out of me. “Tomorrow would be great.” I laugh. And then I can’t stop. I’m laughing so hard, tears escape out of the corners of my eyes, and it turns into high-pitched cackling. The poor clerk glances around, probably wondering if anyone else is witnessing her customer dissolve into delirium.