As she struggled with the bitterness which threatened to overthrow her, Hana heard footsteps. Thinking it was Sheila returning, she hauled herself together and put her password into the computer. A gentle hand on her shoulder made her turn, biting the inside of her cheek to distract her from the misery. Peter North followed the squeeze with a pat, a little too hard, but filled with compassion. “That sucks!” he said with conviction.
Hana found she couldn’t answer. She excused herself and ran to the disabled toilet on the ground floor, spending the next hour watching herself cry into the mirror. Pitiful and not at all satisfying.
She emerged to a fire storm. Sheila’s vast sense of overreaction flared and she ranted and raved to anyone with the time to listen. “How can I not have a relation
