Morning

The hairs on my legs prick up as I stand at the bus stop, sheltering from the constant onslaught of icy rain. My throat scratches, eyes sting vengefully at having to be open so early in the morning. I had only managed to catch a few hours sleep, my mind over-active with ideas for sabotage. I must have fallen asleep mid-plan, as I awoke, face lying on my keyboard, his facebook page on the screen. An idea enters my mind then, on remembering his model good-looks and sheepish yet charming demeanour. If I were successful and she found out, she'd never speak to him again. A devilish smile crosses my lips, eyes brighten as my bus comes into view. Today looks promising.