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too raw to even consider wearing high heels.  I slip on my old faithful black ballet pumps.  I’m definitely not going to ditch work.  I know I’m supposed to be doing what she says, but I can’t be totally irresponsible.  What would it solve, me getting sacked?  She’s hardly one to be giving out advice anyway.
    I go into the kitchen and try not to retch from the cigarette stubs in the ashtray.  I vaguely remember getting in last night and trying to cook eggs on toast.  The fire alarm is still hanging open from where I hit it with the broom.  How embarrassing.  What a first impression.  I get out some cereal, not caring that it's not mine.  I mean, this whole life swap thing is really just to help her anyway.  My life’s fine.  Totally fine. 
    ‘How’re you feeling?’  I jump round, heart racing to see Ryan in his same position as yesterday.
    ‘Jesus, scare the crap out of me why don't you,’ I snap, startled. 
    ‘You’re a ray of sunshine this morning,’ he laughs, leaning back cockily in his chair. 
    I’m in no mood for this arsehole.
    ‘Whatever.  I don't have time for this.’
    I throw my cereal bowl in the sink and flinch when it cracks in half.  Shit.  I planned to bolt out of the door, making a triumphant moody exit, but now I should clean it up.  I walk over to it, then decide I should still go.  Or should I?  I hover over it for a second, thinking over my options as I feel my cheeks redden.  Ryan looks up from his cereal.
    ‘I thought you didn’t have time for this?’ he smirks.
    I feel my temper flare up, all the more because of the hangover I’m nursing.  I glare at him quickly before making the triumphant moody exit I planned.  Well, apart from the small trip.  I really wish I hadn’t tripped. 
    *                             *                            *
     
     
    I get off the tube and spot a familiar flash of bright red hair in the crowd.  Lilly from work is one of my best friends.  We’re both PA’s at the same firm that sells head lice treatments for kids (possibly the most boring and un-sexy place to work ever), so have spent many a late evening ordering pizza while we work on presentations for the next morning. 
    We used to just be work colleagues, but our friendship was finally cemented when she tried some diet pills and ended up farting and accidentally shitting herself at work one day.  She said the way I locked her in the toilets and rushed out to buy her new tights and a skirt made her realise I was a friend to keep.  That and I’m sure she was terrified I’d tell anyone. 
    That night she invited me round her flat and we watched her favourite all time film, Thelma & Louise, to make her feel better.  I don't really get it to be honest.  Sure, Brad Pitt’s in it and its fun, but then they kill themselves.  I guess I just don't really see that as a happy ending.  That night we ate so much pizza, ice cream and, ok, a bit of white wine, I ended up vomiting on her carpet.  We knew we had to be friends after that.  However, I still think it was cruel to post the picture on Facebook. 
    ‘Thelma!’ I shout over what seems like hundreds of commuters.
    ‘Hey baby-doll,’ she smiles, waving.  Her bracelets jangle loudly as she weaves her way through the crowds. 
    Her round chubby face is plastered in its usual fake tan.  She’s got fake eyelashes on, which frame her wide set blue eyes and so much bright red glossy lip gloss on her lips that they’re practically dripping.  Her un-natural red hair is blow dried perfectly with lots of volume and massive diamante earrings dangle from her ears.  She’s wearing a tight fitting burnt orange crochet dress, which is high necked and goes just below the knee.  To say it's slightly too much is an understatement. 
    ‘I really don't feel like work today,’ she shrugs.
    ‘I know, me too.’ 
    ‘What do you say?  Run away from our lives and