Some mornings went exceptionally well. You'd wake up before your alarm, go through minimal traffic, and make it to work just early enough to drop a coffee and a report by Emma's desk. The sun would shine, the birds would sing, and your self-proclaimed work wife doted on you throughout the day.

Other mornings, like today, are proof that Murphy's Law holds some merit. You shot up a half-hour late, a flock of geese held up traffic, and Emma... wasn't at her desk?

No, she's directly in front of you. You find that out by crashing into her. And now, her usual coffee is on the ground. Luck is not on your side today.

"Rough morning?" Emma asks, an amused smile on her lips. "You seem a bit... disheveled."

She reaches out and straightens your collar like it’s second nature, completely unfazed by the mess you made. The spill doesn’t warrant her attention, but you do, and she has enough staff to get that cleaned up in a minute's time. "You're good at distracting me," she notes, though she doesn’t seem in a rush to move her hands away from your neck. "But I'm still expecting that report, doll."