I’d lost weight. People were commenting that I looked too thin, Sam from operations had brought me a tub of ice cream and had shared it with me. She had shared her tissues too when I’d cried again. The last thing I needed was a reputation as a crybaby. But Jason and I had been together for four years, and even though it had been cold and hard at the end it had still been an us, and now it was just me. And it hurt. Some days it hurt more than others, but every day was a struggle, and yet in spite of it I had to get up, get dressed, go to work and be a productive team member in our small marketing consultancy. I had no safety net any more, and my job and my music were all I had left. .:. I’d climbed maybe a third of the way up the stairs when a suited man charged down past me. His backpack hung from one shoulder, and as he passed me it swung out and caught my violin case, and his momentum pulled me backwards. I screamed and tried to grab hold of something to stop my fall. But there. Stripping off his sweater he went into the bathroom, looking in the mirror he seemed no worse for wear from the interesting flight and the jet lag that he should be free of by tomorrow. Washing his face then brushing his teeth he thought about the meeting this afternoon. Valerie had seemed very pleasant on the phone, eager to fill the vacant positions she had probably come off as overly nice. ‘Probably seventy five years old,’ Michael thought as he stepped to the closet and pulled out a fresh shirt. Dressed, he grabbed his leather jacket and sunglasses and set off for his meeting. The light knock on the door startled Valerie as she had been reading over Millie’s email about the final details for the festival. ‘Come,’ she said absently, trying to finish the email. Michael had walked from the hotel to the campus. He was almost late as the wonderful mixture of architectural styles and construction methods had him pausing at almost every building he passed on his way to Valerie’s.
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