She looked at the clock on the bedside table. Damn! It was already eight-twenty. She was supposed to be at work twenty minutes ago, and she didn’t even have any work clothes with her. There was no other option but to call in sick. She wouldn’t have to lie because she was mentally disturbed—and surely that would count as sick if a person worked at a counseling clinic.
She got out of bed—still in the jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn to the Chef Cafe the night before—and wandered out to the living room, where she immediately noticed a cute baby-blue princess phone on the coffee table. When she dialed her office number, she heard the phone ring and ring. After ten rings, she realized that of course there was nobody to answer it since that was one of her own duties. It was close to nine when sh
