She scowered her room, looking through drawers of her professional attire. There was no time to be picky, so she settled on a knee length, back pencil skirt, frilled blouse, and her favorite pair of five inch pumps.
"GIRL! Lets go, breakfast is ready!"
"Hold on!" She strut into the bathroom and fixated herself in front of the mirror. Each layer was applied in rush and what she normally would take at least 15 minutes to do, took five.
"Damn day dreams..." she grumbled. Her wet hair was rolled into a loose bun and with a spritz of perfume, she was done; her satisfaction was minimal and her frustration was vast.
Her heels echoed against the hardwood floor of the hallway and as she entered the kitchen, a visibly perturbed Daren. She ignored him for the moment to ground herself with a warm cup of coffee.
"Ahem," he looked her up and down, " the quiche is cold."
She swallowed her mouthful of caffeinated bliss, looking down at the delicious looking spread. Daren was the household cook and besides the amazing dinners he would prepare nightly, he made five star restaurant worthy breakfasts. Today she would be missing out on spinach and goat cheese quiche, fresh cut fruit, and french bread toast.
"I'm sorry, I got sidetracked." she swallowed one more sip, before the time reminded that she needed to leave.