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"It's quite obvious that you're working too hard," she said in between mouthfuls of salad.

The edge of my mouth curled into kind of a half-smirk at the comment. I slouched in my chair, last night's drinking catching up to me. My head was pounding; why we had chosen to sit outside was beyond me. Personally? I think she likes to torture me.

"Don't you agree? You've been going non-stop for a year. You need to take a break; get out, meet some people." That last part sounded more like "meeft som peefle". I suppose it's pretty hard to pronounce words around a mouthful of cucumber.

Downtown was busy this time of year. Lunchtime made it even busier. It was warm for April, probably in the mid-60s. I wasn't much for weather. I liked to keep it simple. Sunny? T-shirt. Cloudy? Hooded sweatshirt. Sure, my attitude had lead to being cold or wet once in awhile, but apathy leads to that sort of thing. In any case, the sun was brighter than I liked and since God wasn't much inclined to turn the brightness down for me, I'd chosen to wear sunglasses. We were sitting outside at a corner diner; She was having her usual: a salad, no onions, vinegar and oil dressing. A half-empty glass of water sat in front of me, slice of lemon on the edge of the glass.

I was pretty sure that's all my stomach could handle.