She sits under the lowering sky, her coat and a blanket of fear pulled tight around her, shivering in the wind, shivering at the thoughts she can't keep at bay. The street stretches away from her like a bleak, grey tunnel, the destination she dreads at the end, squatting like a concrete toad and holding the key to her future; the key to her pleasure or pain. She sees the bus in the distance, its familiar form distorted by anxiety's lens and her heart sinks. If only it would never arrive. If only she had never joined bloody Weight Watchers!