As If Things Couldn't Get Any Worse

“Sleep through the alarm again?” Brian asked. He held the door open as Jane walked into the office.

“Yeah,” Jane replied. “How can you tell?”

“Well...” Brain paused. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

“It’s OK, I get it,” Jane grumbled.  “How bad is it?”

“There’s a mustard stain on the back of your shirt,” Brian told her.

“You’re kidding me!”  Jane twisted around, contorting her body in an unnatural way in an attempt to spot the stain she had missed.  “I thought this one was all right.”

“Mary’s about your size, isn’t she?” Brian tapped the elevator button.

“Probably. She still keeps a change of clothes at work?”

“I think so.” Brian entered the elevator. “I can’t imagine what else she keeps in that bag she hides in her desk drawer. I’m sure she’d lend you a clean shirt.”

“I’ll be okay,” Jane said as she touched the button for the fifth floor. “I should be able to avoid anyone else seeing it.”

“You forgot?” Brian raised his eyebrows. At her questioning look, he continued, “You’re supposed to present our findings to the board today.”

“I didn’t think they wanted to hear from us until next week.  Tuesday, the 17th of May?”

“Did you hit your head or something?”  Brian said, slightly amused by Jane’s panicked expression.  “It’s the 17th today.”

The End

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