Cassie hated her haircut. Foolishly she thought it was time for something short. Ha! She could have done a better job on her own with a carving knife. Then when she took off her coat at home it snagged her blouse and a button popped. What a horrible morning.

And then Greg rubbed it in. “Hey hey hey, who are you? Har har har.”

She almost cried, and Greg apologized. “It’s okay, really it is. It almost looks nice. What’s for lunch?”

Cassie made tuna salad. There were only three slices of bread left. If only she’d gone shopping instead of to the ... well, no use crying over snipped hair. “The heel okay with you?” she called out to Greg, who was working on his last minute fantasy football whatevers. She knew he didn’t mind the heel, and anyway it was fair because he used two slices for his sandwich and Cassie just a single slice.

She brought the sandwich out to Greg along with an opened bottle of beer. He looked down at the sandwich and scrunched up his face. “How come you put the heel on upside down?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got it facing in. The crust should be facing out.”

“Oh, sorry,” Cassie said, and she quickly plucked the heel from the sandwich and reapplied it crust side up.

“Oh God!” Greg exclaimed. “Now it’s all ... Does that make any sense? I mean does it? Tell me. I really want to know.”

“Fine,” Cassie said, and she took away the plate with the ruined sandwich. In the kitchen she scraped the sandwich into the trash.

“Wait,” Greg called, trailing after her. “I’m hungry.”

Cassie shrugged and nodded at the trash can.

“Fuck,” Greg said.

“Not any time soon,” Cassie said.