Morning routine.

The alarm began sounding. Morning had once again arrived with its usual regularity, a regularity only monotony fully understood. She was, as usual, awake. Laying there in the darkness. Her body clock having developed an uncanny ability to wake her 10 minutes before the alarm sounding. A cruel joke of skilful accuracy, her own personalised snooze alarm.

Reaching to deactivate the sound and check her emails, Facebook, Steemit, Instagram and Twitter accounts, a quick play on her favourite game. Checking the time, 30 minutes had passed, still time to check her favourite web pages.

Turning on the bathroom light, the shower invited her in for her morning caressing, she stepped in and allowed the jet of hot water soak her. Warmth began to fill her body, skin, muscles and deep into her bones. Steam filled the small, functional and, as she would regularly remind herself, tastefully decorated bathroom.

Not to be outdone by the receptionist, again. She began selecting her outfit for the day. Considering the day, weather, previously worn outfits, what others were likely to wear, cross referencing possibilities with accessories, she began to dress. Several combinations later, it was time to tackle the makeup.

At least breakfast was simple, coffee.

Then came the moment she dreaded. Time to leave. Anxiety began to tickle her belly. Her mind began to race, would he be there this morning? What if the tram was late, the subway busy, could she carry herself with the confidence others seemed to manage with ease. Her hand quivered over the door knob, as she began to recite her morning mantra. "Fake it till you make it.....fake it till you make it....fake it till you make it."

She opened the door and stepped through, another day had begun.