Laynie walked into the bakery, a yawn swallowed in her throat. She rubbed her eyes tiredly; she had barely slept last night because she had to rush a piece of article for her editor. She scowled at the thought of her editor; it had been her who had moved the deadline early and had Laynie burn the midnight oil.

So she was resentful - whatever.

She bought two tuna sandwiches and made her way out of the shop when someone pushed her way in, shoving her arm painfully.