On the cheap plastic wall clock, the big hand was pointing to 12, and the little hand was pointing to 6.

Once again, five o’clock had come and gone, and I was still sitting at my desk working up numbers for yet another data call. A quick prairie-dog over the top of the cubicle showed no-one else still at their desks, so I unlocked the bottom drawer of my desk and slipped out the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black I kept handy for such an occasion. Made a mental note that it’s about time to pick up a new bottle.

I slugged down the last gulp of cold coffee, did another quick look over my shoulder, and poured a finger into the coffee cup. Sniff, sip, and swallow – the familiar warmth in the throat and twinge in the back of the nose. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and stretched.

She’d snuck up while I was in a moment of reverie. “Woman, don’t you knock?” I asked.

Susan tossed her hair over her shoulder with a smile. “Don’t you know it’s against policy to have booze in this office?” She had her coat and keys in her hand and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder.