Rain pelted the streets of Manhattan. The wind blew hazardous gusts, taking several umbrellas with it while people scurried for places to hide inside storefronts and under awnings, anywhere that would shield them long enough for the wind to die down.

Miranda Harris was no different from the bustling NY crowds who more often than not found themselves stranded in the current situation.

She held firm to her overly large umbrella, its size akin to that of a patio umbrella... she wasn't taking any chances this time.

The umbrella wobbled in her grip, but she turned it just a bit against the wind. She wasn't about to get wet... no sir... and she would remember to shoot the weatherman once she left the office. Typical Christmas weather, she thought. The streets were decorated, the Rockefeller tree was up and Macy's storefront was decked and ready. Yet she wasn't, seemed she never was. Christmas always left her lonely, and she was never able to hold on to a solid relationship with a man.

So once again she'd been dumped right before the holiday.

Wishing the rain would have been snow instead, Miranda stood anxiously at the curb on West 52nd Street. Bundled up in her best coat with a few layers under that to try and beat the frigid air of the Northeast climate, she watched as the cars drove past her in an unorderly frenzy. She glanced at the light several times in sheer frustration then counted... "One, two, three." As she began to step off the curb, a New York cabbie flew past her, sending a shower of water that soaked her to the skin.

There she stood, drenched from head to toe. "You stupid moron!" she bellowed after him, but he just kept driving. She began to cry. "Why is it always me?" She trudged through the puddles in her new weatherproof rain boots. The streets always flooded, which was a huge problem for anyone who had no choice but to walk the long street from the subway.

Her mousey brown, neatly coiffed curls were now wet dirty tangles hanging over her eyes. She slapped at her hair, pushing it away from her face. Holding the umbrella, realizing it now served her no purpose at all, she handed it to a homeless man who was sheltered inside of a cardboard box under the awning of a small store. "Here, you need this more than I do," she suggested as she stomped away in a sopping wet mess.

Four long blocks to go, that's all... "Bah Humbug!"

"Merry Christmas and ho, ho, ho my ass!" She spoke through clenched teeth that chattered more from the cold. Miranda was freezing and wanted nothing more than to get into the building where she would find warmth and her devoted friend and secretary, Chelsea, who would undoubtedly be waiting with a nice cup of hot chocolate for her and the morning's messages.

 

* * * *

 

"Good morning, Miss Harr..." George the doorman paused. "What happened to you? Oh my, come inside quickly before you catch cold." He shielded her with his own body against the rain then opened the door.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked.

"No, George, thanks. I'll be fine once I get to my office."

"All right then, good day." He tipped his hat.

She reached the elevator and pressed the button. The door didn't respond. She pressed it again, still nothing. She pressed it several more times in succession before finally kicking the door and walking toward the stairwell.

"Dammit!"

Twelve flights of stairs... Looking up, she screamed, "Son of a bitch!"

 

* * * *

 

Miranda stood at the top step of the twelfth floor. The glass double doors were finally within reach. Chelsea spied her before she reached the office. "What happened to you, Miranda? What would you like me to do? Are you hurt?"

Chelsea assisted her into her nice cozy office where she couldn't wait to get out of the wet clothing. "Go into the closet and bring me out some dry clothes for starters, then if you will, bring me a hot cup of the strongest espresso you can find and grab the bottle of bourbon."

Chelsea looked askance.

"Don't look at me like that. Just go do it, ok?"

"Right away, Miranda."

She returned with the clothes first, then closed the door behind her, giving Miranda privacy so she could change into something dry. Several minutes passed. Miranda was finally dried and seated at her desk facing the window, watching the rain fall, wishing all the while that she would find that cabbie and throw him in the Hudson.

Chelsea returned with a tray of hot espresso in a pot with sugar and milk, just the way Miranda preferred to drink it. The bottle of unopened bourbon was next to it.

"Open that bottle, will you?"

"But it's ten o'clock in the morning, Miranda. Are you-"

"Open it! After the morning I had I want that entire bottle gone by the time I leave here today."