Who could get her out of this?

She stood at the window. Who could get her out of this? Not Nick. Sure, he’d be sympathetic but he’d love that she was desperate, and use that too given the chance. It had to be someone who didn’t get it. Someone new? She watched the traffic pulse down Fleet Street to St Paul’s and the city beyond, where thousands nestled at desks following scripts or writing new ones. It was their fault, she thought. It had seeped from there.