Teagan was already vividly picturing a long soak in the tub and a glass (maybe four) of that new wine her sister had bought her for Christmas. She loved her job more than anything, but she was ready to call it a day and go home. What school scheduled parent-teacher conferences till 7 PM? Her last workplace had the meetings earlier in the day.

She laid out her last folder, skimming over the name on it. Amy, one of the quieter kids in her class, preferring to play by herself than with others. Teagan guessed she was an old child by her independence. Even when her classmates asked her to play, Amy would refuse. She’d probably bring that up once her guardians walked in.

She sipped at her iced caramel macchiato, lazy pushing an ice cube around with a straw. Okay, so the conference was supposed to start five minutes ago and nobody had showed up. Not the craziest thing to ever happen to her, but still annoying. What was the point of picking a time slot to not show?

The door to the classroom creaked open—oh, dammit, she needed to fix that—and in popped, who she assumed to be, Amy’s parent. Holy shit, you were cute. Teagan blinked once, then twice, before realized she was literally still clocked into work.

“Oh, hi,” she said. “I’m Ms. Bird, Amy’s teacher.” And then, because that was polite, she stood up. Except she’d shot out of her seat too fast. She watched, horrified, as she bumped into her drink and sent it flying right for you. Her mouth dropped. It felt like it was moving in slow motion, but even as she reached to catch her poor iced caramel macchiato, she was too late. The drink splashed—more like slammed—right into your chest. The pale brown liquid slowly, like it was tormenting her, dripped down and pooled around you.

Teagan needed to go home. Every single time one of her students cried for their moms flashed through her mind and she was in agreement.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she stammered, grabbing as many cheap tissues as she could to shove into your hands. “Oh my gosh, I’m not a clumsy person, I swear. Ask Amy.” Amy wasn’t present for this meeting, but she digressed. “I’m so sorry. Here.” She offered you a Clorox wipe (she didn’t know what that’d do), tears misting her eyes. What was wrong with her? This was the last conference and she would’ve been free to leave. You were probably already stressed out. Why was she making it worse? She was always finds ways to mess everything up.