When he sat down at his desk and opened his laptop to find an email from her, he had that sinking feeling. A ball of lead in his stomach that made him feel sick. He didn't want to click, he didn't want to open it. He dreaded what it would say. But he knew he had to. Ever the procrastinator he stood up and put the kettle on. A nice cup of tea was what he needed to deal with whatever she had sent him. And maybe a biscuit. He opened the tin and found only crumbs. He couldn't have a cup of tea without a biscuit. Not today. He turned the kettle off, grabbed his keys and his coat and headed downstairs. He would pop to the shops. The email could wait. Outside, the weather matched his mood: there was a fine drizzle and the clouds were gathering, pinching together forming a dark scab in the sky. He pulled the collar of his coat closer and headed out. The nearest shop was only a few minutes walk, but he decided to go to the other one. They had a better choice of biscuits, and besides he liked the girl who worked there.
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