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She opened the door and stared out into the grey sky, her shoulders drooping.

It was going to be one of those days.

With a sigh, she buttoned her coat up, tugged the door shut behind her and stepped out into the rain. The gate was only four steps away, but by the time she got there she had cold rainwater down the back of her neck, blurry glasses and soaked, plastered down hair.

She set her jaw, tugged her collar closer around her neck, and walked on.

The roads were like rivers. The gutters were failing, spewing miniature waterfalls every few feet. Cars coasted by through massive puddles, giant waves of spray soaking everything in their path. She gritted her teeth and walked on.

She had rarely felt so thoroughly miserable.

Ahead of her lay another Monday; an overflowing inbox, frustrating phone calls, a short lunch and more of the same. All with wet hair, most likely.

But at the end of it, she would come home, and there would be blankets and lemon tea.

© Kari Fay

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