It was one of those days.
The coffee-maker overflowed during her shower; brown sludge behind the fridge making sodden murk with dog-hairs and peas. She cleaned it, down on hands and knees, then had to change her clothes.
Meanwhile the dog threw up; must have snacked on grounds. Her car wouldn’t start. The rain was wet. And when she turned around the bus splashed her skirt. The coffee shop was packed.
A stranger stopped and smiled at her. He found a table; carried her cup. “Name’s Murphy,” he said. “Murphy’s Law.” Then Sandy tripped up and melted into his gaze.