I wave her apology away as I take a seat at the island.
I feel exhausted as I give Brutus a pat, and I’m starving. I’m really f*****g starving.
“Can I get you a coffee?” the cleaner asks, and I’m about to say yes before I really look at her.
The poor woman looks as exhausted as I am, working her ass off to clean up after me before seven on a f*****g Sunday morning.
“What’s your name?” I ask, and her eyes widen. “Sonya,” she says, “but everyone calls me Sonnie.”
“Well then, Sonnie,” I say. “Why don’t you sit yourself down for five minutes and I’ll get us both one.”
She looks like she’s going to faint as she takes a stool. As though this is some kind of test.
It isn’t. I put the beans in the machine with a smile.
And then I ask her if she wants to join me for some muesli.
SONNIE is
