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just before lunch; always a pushover for Tim was his Danni.   A lot to do with the fact he often arrived at the office with a box of chocolates under his wing.  
    Flushing the toilet, Matthew lowered the seat and headed for the shower, then stopped dead in his tracks.   In a sudden moment of defiance he returned to the lavatory and lifted the seat back up.
    Matthew spoke directly to the seat itself.   "Ha, no one here to demand that you be put down now, is there?"   The pleasure of victory surged through him, marking his moment of conquest.

    Tamsen repeated the mantra to herself, wishing with all her might she could believe the three simple sentences. "We are the greatest thing that will ever happen to us.   Believe it.   It makes life much easier."
    Sitting on the terrace, she took in the sight and sounds of the ocean, the remnants of her carrot, celery and parsley juice hanging like fluorescent porridge on the inside of her glass. The first spoonful of muesli, fruit and yoghurt had scarcely passed her lips when Gina breezed out, black coffee in hand and doughnut hanging out of her mouth.
    She removed the offending pasty. "You know that healthy shit's going to be the death of you, don't you?" Gina said.
    "Good morning, G. Did you sleep well?"   Tamsen chose to ignore the taunt; it was the same every morning.
    "Ah, not bad. You know me, couldn't get to sleep but now I don't want to get up - nothing changes."  
    "Well, you could-"
    "Yeah, right."   Gina cut her off mid-sentence.   "Save your breath for the brethren you'll convert when you get your retreat up and running." She smiled sweetly.   "So you still having lunch with His Poxiness then?"
    "I know you're just jealous and yes I am."
    Gina shoveled the balance of her doughnut into her mouth and sluiced it down with half the coffee. "Don't come running to me heartbroken 'cos he's treating you just like the last poor bitch."
    Tamsen could feel the indigestion coming on watching her friend eat. "I won't."
    "Gotta go."   On the run didn't come close to describing Gina's morning ritual. "Will I see you at lunchtime or is he meeting you somewhere?"
    "Meeting me somewhere."
    Gina rolled her eyes.   "Well, don't say I didn't try to warn you off."
    "I won't.   Have yourself a great day."
    "Yeah.   Whatever." And she was gone as fast as she'd arrived.

    Finishing the last of her dandelion tea, Tamsen spotted Gina's sunflower yellow VW maneuvering out the secure gates of the apartment complex.   On her way to fight the rush-hour traffic into town, clouds of blue cigarette smoke billowing from the driver's window.   Tamsen despaired. Her best friend ran on anxiety, adrenaline, coffee and cigarettes, probably the very reason she looked stick-insect thin.   "Can never be too thin or too rich," Gina always joked.  
    Tamsen was neither.   She had to constantly reassure herself that it couldn't be much fun making love to a table leg, although a number of Gina's girlfriends didn't seem to have a problem with the concept.
    Grateful that working for herself meant she could duck the morning crawl over the harbor bridge into the city, Tamsen picked up her journal and began to write.   Something she did every morning, allowing the nonsense that accumulated in her brain a chance to discharge itself onto the page.   She could never be sure whether the words would be rants or thanks until pen hit paper.   Either way, it was cathartic.  
    Some mornings she just wrote, 'nothing to write, nothing to write,' until she found her truth point, usually midway down the second page.   A point where she was unable to hide from herself any longer.   Written truth serum.   Who needed drugs?

    Matt backed the Audi out of the tea-tree lined driveway, careful to avoid the ponga logs that were blocking half the entrance.  
    He would have to talk to the gardening contractors, he thought. It was bad enough he couldn't turn the car around by the garage for their bark, topsoil and plant