It was a morning, which was good, considering she'd just got out of bed and was preparing to go to work. Unreasonably, at least to her mind, was the insistence by her office that Shelly should arrive there each day at the start of the working day... in the morning.
Shelly was not a morning person.
She had been married – for a while – to a morning person. Steve had the annoying temerity to not only like getting up in the mornings, he also enjoyed being awake, singing like a star in a big budget musical as he made his smiling way through the early day.
The marriage had not lasted long.
Steve had tried to not like mornings. Shelly could remember him lying there in bed, stiff and awkward ass the birds began their third encore of the dawn chorus, both Steve and the birds keeping Shelly awake and increasingly angry with both of them. Up until then she'd been completely oblivious to the dawn chorus, but once she'd started to notice it.
Steve had to go.
So, he went – last she heard he'd started a farm, which Shelly thought would suit him - while she went back to hating mornings... until she got this job.
Just why everything had to start in the morning, usually at some hour she'd only ever regarded as theoretical, she couldn't understand. No-one liked getting up in the morning – apart from Steve – so she wondered why everyone did it.
Shelly thought there should be some sort of law, but politicians never cared about the things that mattered. So here was Shelly standing in the bathroom as another day – far too early – started around her.
It was only when she looked in the mirror and saw who... what... was standing behind her that she realised that this was going to be one of her very few memorable mornings.