New York 4

I picked the miscellaneous tape up from the floor and dropped it into my handbag to tidy it up. It was a deep green Radley bag. Lush like a forest of summer leaves: my favourite colour.

Crash

The noise distracted me from stroking and admiring the soft leather. I ran to the kitchen to see what had fallen. The fridge was open and there lay a carton of milk. It had opened and the white fluid was spilt over the floor. What chilled me to the bone was the way it had run to form the word 'Mark'. My ex's name.

I grabbed the soggy carton off the floor and tossed it in the sink, as I grabbed a cloth. I started mopping up the spill and shut the fridge door. A box of cornflakes fell from the counter top and I was horrified to see 'Mark' spilt out in an orange flakey font.

I grabbed my handbag and raced out the flat. I'd go find somewhere that serves STRONG coffee and calm down. It must just be my imagination. He must be playing on my mind. I felt like crying until I heard my nan's scolding voice in my head, "Never cry over spilt milk!". I giggled at the irony.