It’s a couple of minutes past 9am and I’m briskly walking to my desk trying not to draw attention to the fact that I’ve walked into the office late. I sit in my chair, drop my handbag down next to me and turn my head when I’m met with the face of a co-worker.
“Are you OK?” they ask me, leaning in close with a look of concern painted across their face.
“Yes?” I respond to their question with a question. I mean, I think I’m OK. Am I OK? I ask myself. Hang on. Of course I’m OK before I start to panic at the thought of my skirt being tucked into undies or looking down and noticing I’m wearing two different shoes.
“It’s just, it looks like you’ve been crying,” they respond and then it dawns on me. That God. Damn. Hayfever.