A freezing cold day. Grace waits outside on the steps. She stares at the building that she cannot enter. Grace opens her flask, the smell of fresh coffee makes her smile. A fly lands in her flask. "Oh shit" she cries. Then the sight of the fly drowning brings a strange kind of pleasure. Quickly, the moment passes, now utterly disgusted, she pours her coffee out, watches as it trickles down the steps.
For a fleeting moment, Grace wishes the building wasn't there. She wishes she had her coffee now. She throws her flask down the steps. It rolls onto the busy road and under a passing lorry. Crushed. Grace is devoid of hope.
Grace is feeling cold. She picks herself up and heads home with her transparent demons side by side. She calls them Insecurity and Melancholia and the other one she tries to forget, the one that lingers behind - What's her name?