Chapter 1 - Sam Bennett

          Brown carpet, brown walls, brown upholstery. The colour of Sam’s working world is shit brown; not the official paint company name, but close enough. A forest of dark mahogany panelling lines one side of the open area she sits in outside her boss’ office. Large concrete columns intersperse the foliage, like trunks stripped of their bark. Unfortunately these are painted beige. Not vanilla bean, mocha, eggshell, or parchment, but boring-as-bat-shit beige.
          Vertical blinds the same colour hang passively behind her. Sam’s given up trying to rotate these to suit the sun. The pull cord invariably jams, leaving the windows looking like they’re sporting bad dentures.
          The most interesting view from her desk is of the elevator at the other end of the foyer. This services the whole floor and is her only link with the outside world other than the view from her boss’ corner office when she’s in taking dictation.
          As she counts down to the end of the week, Sam once again opens the top drawer of her dark, walnut veneer desk to gaze at a picture of Darren in his army fatigues; sent with one of his regular letters.
          God he's hot. Looking at her soon-to-be fiancé reminds Sam how important her well-paid, shit-coloured job is. Her goal of saving enough for a wedding more over-the-top than her parents are willing to pay for is getting closer every day. It’s only the thought of a five tier cake, live band and bucket-loads of frangipani that have stopped her telling her boss, Peter Crisp, to shove it.
          Crispy Critter. Thirty five going on 50 and middle management right down to the comb-over and a body that looks as though it’s been put together like custard. He’s a cheap bastard who drives a Nissan Sunny that flakes rust so badly that anything over 60kph make it look positively autumnal.