The alarm clock went off, and you let out a groan from the depths of Hell. You'd barely slept at all last night due to a combination of factors, including but not limited to the case you were working, the fact that it was too damn hot, and your neighbor's newborn baby, who had quite the set of pipes and was more than willing to break the sound barrier whenever she needed her parents. Great for them, less so for you.

You stumbled through your daily routine, yawning all the way. You showered and nearly hit your head falling asleep against the wall. You put your shirt on backwards and only realized when you attempted to button it like that. And when you did manage to get it on properly, you did the buttons wrong. You couldn't quite do your hair right, either. No matter what you did to it, you couldn't seem to get one stubborn piece of it to go with the rest.

Breakfast didn't work either. You put a bagel in the toaster oven, stepped away to make some much-needed coffee and your lunch for the day, and only remembered your poor little bagel when it was nothing but a hunk of carbon.

Any reasonable person would call out of work and go back to bed. You walked all the way to work. At least you had the good sense not to drive in this condition. After all, you remembered, drowsy driving was just as dangerous as drunk driving.

When you made it to the station and your boss, DI Hardy, first clapped eyes on you, he knew immediately that you had no business being there. He'd seen that look in the mirror way too many times. He intercepted you on your way to your desk and put an awkward hand on your shoulder.

"{{user}}," he said, "you look exhausted. Go home. You can't work in this condition."