The morning sun hovered over the city, rising slowly, glittering over Lake Michigan like a golden jewel suspended in mid air. There were few clouds but the wind was up. Max had spent the night nursing a cold coffee in McDonald's. The staff didn't seem to notice him in amongst the teens and drunkards that seemed to in and out all night. He was able to sit in relative seclusion, drifting off to sleep for only a few minutes at a time, the collar of his jacket pulled up around his jaw.

People began to come in before work to order their first coffee's of the day. Young women and men with music playing in their ears and cell phones in their hands, orderingcoffee's as though they were reciting poetry. The whole purpose of places like this he noticed- for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self:

"Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino."

The last woman in the queue ordered loudly over the crackle of someone on the other end of her phone.

He drew in a breath, the air was dry and hot. His face felt sticky with the clammy sweat that sleep seems to bring.

Clearing his throat he stretched out his legs under the small table and slid out of his seat, hauling his bag and the guitar with him, glancing at the clock above the cashier as he left the shop. It was 8:20. He had all day to reach Zoe.

Out in the street the air smelled like molten sugar and cinnamon, the scent hit him in the back of the throat and his stomach gurgled, a vague stale nausea rolling inside of him.

Cars honked their horns from various directions, there was a general murmur, a clatter of heels, the ring of a cell phone and the groan and hiss of a juggernaut behind him. He dipped his head, pushing his hands into his pockets further, cradling the map against his palm.

The night before he had sat studying the map while he sipped the first black coffee. He had calculated that if he walked straight for several blocks and then turned in along the main high street he should reach St Joseph's at around 6 or 7 that evening.

Zoe woke to the sound of the alarm going off in the room next to her, followed by the clatter of something being dropped in the kitchen below.

She lay, looking at the light stretching in from the far window. Last nights events replayed in the forefront of her mind. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Whether what she had seen was a one off? She didn't think so. Or if it was just how the Mollengraaf's worked. She remembered the odd comment Helena had made at breakfast about meeting someone, and the cold, almost bored look that Henry had shot her.

Reluctantly she slid from the covers, she noticed she had bled a little onto the under-sheet as she tossed the duvet back over the bed before stripping off and stepping into the little shower room.

She turned her face up into the shower head, the gush of the water was gentle, soothing, pitter-pattering across her skin. She closed her eyes against the water. The last time she had showered was with Max at Charlie's. She let her mind hold onto the thought for a moment, turning it over in her mind as though sucking on a boiled sweet, making it last before she crunched back to reality, the realisation of what had happened splintering the memory into painful fragments.

She still hadn't cried, she realised. She hadn't mourned the loss of the relationship that they had had. She tilted her head away from the water, looking down at her body, the curve of her stomach, the silvered stretch-marks at her thighs. He had told her she was beautiful.

She looked again at her stomach, maybe that was it. She wasn't a size 8 blonde supermodel type. Her mind took delight in imagining what had happened that evening when Max had left. If he had gone out somewhere, to a pub and met someone there, or if he had known where he was heading as soon as he left. The miscarriage, having to look after her had obviously made him realise that it was too much, not what he'd signed up for.

He was still young, a part of her brain tried to stand up for him, but was soon beaten down by the vulgarity of the images she played in her minds eye. She imagined Max, with another woman, the woman she had heard on the phone, imagining her, the size 8 blonde supermodel she assumed he usually went for. She imagined how he had kissed her, how he had touched her, like he had touched Zoe, and how he had been inside her. She visibly shook herself at the thought of him having that intimacy with someone else, being inside someone else.

She turned off the water and stepped out into the cool of the room, wrapping a towel around herself and moving to the bedroom to dress.

When she finally made it downstairs it was 8:20AM, the Mollengraaf's were all sat neatly around the dining table where she had sat yesterday for breakfast.

"Zoe! Good to see you, how was your first night? Sleep well?"

Henry asked, his face wide and open, his eyes sparkled, impossibly alert.

She smiled as she sat down opposite the two children.

"I didn't realise I was so tired."

She answered, looking across to the children who were sat staring at her whilst eating their cereal.

"Angelica, Milo, this is Dr Hanna who will be staying with us for a couple weeks."

The tone in which he spoke suggested they were much younger than they were. She smiled softly at them before averting her eyes, sensing their stares still upon her.

"Help yourself..."

Helena gestured with a limp hand to the cereal packets that were arranged in height order on the table. She didn't recognise any of them, but took the nearest one and shook some into the bowl.

"You ready to get your hands dirty today?"

Henry asked, his enthusiasm palpable as he placed his own hands across his stomach and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm certainly looking forward to seeing how you do things over here."

Zoe answered, reaching for the milk jug and pouring it onto the brightly coloured cereal hoops.

She glanced at Helena as she placed the jug back down, who shifted her eyes to the magazine next to her, her cheeks flushing under her make up.

"We'll head off once you've finished. The chief wants us in at 10 but it never hurts to be early."

"The chief?"

Zoe repeated, finding she was hurrying her cereal.

"Cormac Banks, he's in charge."

He spoke as he got up and made his way over to remove something from the fridge door where it had been held by a magnet.

She left the last few mouthfuls in the bowl, the sugary cereal making her stomach churn.

"Ready whenever you are."

She murmured, smiling a half smile of thanks to Helena who stood up as soon as she was finished to clear away her bowl, still her head bowed, her eyes averted, still her cheeks flushed with ruddy embarrassment.

"I'll see you tonight."

Henry leaned in to kiss his wife on the lips, she turned awkwardly as he did so that he only caught the very corner of her mouth.

"Bye kids."

He raised a hand to both children who called their goodbyes, Zoe following him into the hall, a sudden pang of nervousness fluttering up from the pit of her stomach.

More to come :) xxx