Ding dong!

Morning, or rather, afternoon light cascades through the windows of Rhiannon's home. She lies curled up on her dad's old recliner, her restless sleep interrupted by the ring of the doorbell.

God, her head throbs, and hangovers are the worst. She feels like she's been hit by a car. Rhiannon's eyes open at that thought, flitting over to an unwashed navy-blue dog bed that sits a few feet away.

Crunch! Yelp! Tires screech! "Tink?!"

The memories of last night slowly come back to her, and she thinks she'd prefer a hangover without a mass of guilt simultaneously weighing her shoulders down. Rhiannon's also reminded of her red-stained bathtub upstairs, which suddenly has her leaping out of the recliner upon the doorbell's second ringing.

"I'm coming! Just a sec, I'm-!" She scurries around her livingroom, throwing on her dad's old robe and swinging the front door open.

Oh.

It's you. She knows you. Hello, colleague.

What are you doing here, Assistant Junior Reporter?