June 15th - June 20th, 2016
Monday morning arrived with the kind of nervous energy that made my hands shake as I held my coffee cup. Nine o'clock. Gary's office.
The meeting I'd promised Emma I'd have, the meeting I'd texted Gary about Sunday night in a moment of clarity that now felt more like temporary insanity. What if he thought I couldn't handle the job? What if asking for help was admitting defeat before I'd even properly started?
Emma had texted me that morning, as if she could sense my anxiety from two hundred miles away: "Week 3. You've survived longer than I thought. Proud of you. Now go ask for that help before you work yourself into an early grave. Love you."
I'd replied: "Meeting at 9. Terrified."
"You've got this. Also, have you tried the coffee at that place near the training ground? Apparently it's 'artisanal.'"
"It's £4.50 for a flat white."
"That's London, babe. Welcome to the big leagues."
"I miss Greggs, I'll have to dind it."
