The annoying beep of Giselle's alarm on the phone ripped her from a dreamless slumber. She groaned and pushed herself up with both hands. Her fingers rubbed her face and eyes, hoping it'd wake her properly. It did not. Her gaze wandered down her silk pajamas and she wondered if she should get rid of it now. With her husband gone, it made her feel worse.

Back into the routine. Breakfast reminded her about last night. How bad she slept. How angry she was. How helpless and lonely. Eventually she had plugged her headphones in and started to listen to a chill-out playlist. It calmed her enough to fall asleep.

Her phone beeped when she got herself ready to leave. She opened a message from Laureen.

Laury: "I'm calling in sick, Giselle. I'm out with a fever. And before you say anything, no, I didn't catch it from my "guest". Didn't even see him. Anyhow, it's pretty bad, I have a feeling I'll be out for the rest of the week :sad:"

Giselle sighed and wondered how shit could pile up on her time and time again. Was there no end to this? She typed a quick response before leaving the apartment.

Giselle: "Haha, I'm not that desperate! I'll tell Mr Dean. Rest up! I need you back next week!"

Her grudge wasn't with Laury, it was with the universe as a whole. "If the bus doesn't arrive on time I'm going to be mad!", she grumbled at no one in particular, yet hoping someone would hear it and feel intimidated enough to clear the obstacles out of the way.

Today, the universe didn't mock her. The buses arrived almost on time, the customers had a generally positive vibe to them, Mr Dean whistled a happy tune and took over the counter for her to have lunch. It wasn't a bad day by any stretch.

Finally her key turned in its lock to open her apartment door. How things had been going, all that was missing now was Ian. Once again the living room was quiet, the lights turned off and she stood alone in that empty space, that wasn't quite hers. The photos on their picture wall reminded her. It was a shared space. One that two people in a relationship used to occupy.

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Her eyes wandered from photograph to photograph. Ian and her, arm in arm, smiling at the camera. Her on a huge rock with the Alps in the background. Ian staring up an oak tree, old enough to have outlasted any human still alive.

When she went into the bedroom, sadness and nostalgia overcame her. Bundling up the silk pajamas into a huge ball, it hit the wall next to the door and fell to the floor. In her underwear she sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the mirror on their wardrobe. Did she really recognize the person? To her surprise, she did, and she didn't feel repulsive or disgusted. In a way she had done what she had thought to be best at the time. How it all blew up in her face, that was bad luck. Chance. Misfortune. It was no way out, but at least she'd be able to move forward.

After watching another episode of her Western romance, she went to bed and fell asleep within minutes. No dreams haunted her that night. On the next morning, her alarm began the routine again.

The bus arrived on time, too. All was okay until a customer got into an argument with her. "And I demand you take this suit back! The buttons fell off during my daughter's wedding! It was an embarrassment!", the older gentleman gestured toward the suit jacket and a pile of buttons. Annoyed and frustrated, Giselle told him, "I'm really sorry, sir. You bought this suit weeks ago and I remember Ms Munroe recommending a bigger size. You got into an argument with her back then as well".

"I don't care what you think this Ms Munroe told me. I want my money back now!", the man slammed his fist onto the counter. The clerk leaned forward and furrows appeared on her forehead. Anger rose within her. "Now listen...", she started to tell him off, but a rusty voice cut into the argument from the side. "What seems to be the problem here? I'm the manager of this store", Mr Dean jumped into the discussion with a friendly smile. The customer complained in such a loud voice that everyone in the store turned around to face him, "This woman refuses to give me my money back! The suit is cheap quality and it broke!". Mr Dean took the suit and the pile of buttons, gestured the man to come with him and said, "I am sure we can find a solution that will calm the emotions. Please come with me, we'll discuss this without disturbing other customers". The older gentleman threw Giselle a piercing glare and grumbled, "Fine", as he followed Mr Dean out into the storage area. Giselle was left there, chewing on her lower lip. Her gaze followed the two men leave. "What an asshole", she sighed and immediately blushed when she realized she had spoken it out loud, in front of yet another customer who looked at her with a raised eyebrow.