Her stomach dropped. The presentation she’d stayed up until 2 a.m. finishing was still on her kitchen table, right next to her dead phone.
Her car’s gas light blinked on the moment she turned the key. She made it half a mile before the engine coughed and died at a red light. Horns blared. A man in a pickup gave her the finger. Video Title- Jill-s bad day
The alarm didn’t go off. Or maybe it did, and Jill had slapped it in her sleep. Either way, she woke up forty minutes late, her phone dead on the nightstand. Her stomach dropped
Jill put her head on her desk and, for a long, quiet moment, didn’t move. Then she laughed—a broken, tired little laugh—because what else was there to do? Her car’s gas light blinked on the moment
She plugged it in, threw on the first clothes her hands touched—a wrinkled blouse and mismatched socks—and ran to the kitchen. The coffee maker gurgled angrily, then spat lukewarm brown water onto the counter instead of into the pot. She drank it anyway, straight from the carafe, grimacing.
“Jill. Great of you to join us. The Henderson presentation? It started ten minutes ago.”