[Request: a story which features a building with a glass-front. Italics = your suggestions]
Harriet had quite enough of the cafe and decides that after lemonade, lattes and men requesting children's portions of food, she will start her day.
She is wearing a white dress, which is always a good idea because you return home with the day imprinted on your person. That stain? That's breakfast. That one? A cat crawled along my arm. The red one? Blood. Don't ask.
"I could go to work," she thinks. But then again, she thinks the world doesn't need any more administrators. She texts her boss: "Busy today. Or ill."
What else? She could go to a park. She could roll around in the mud. Just for fun. Play on the swings. But her head is a floppy things today. A doll's head. Not her own head at all. Plus she has coffee crusting in the corner of her mouth.
She walks, and as she walks she sees a woman lying in the street, eating lasagne with a plastic fork. Prodding. The woman is curled around the plate. Not quite enjoying her meal.
She skips. There's the old tube carriages, high up on the railway arches. Someone is brushing their teeth in the driver's seat.
She runs. A dog is wearing the same colour jumper as it's owner. Harriet jumps over the animal, slips a little on a paving stone, and finds herself slammed into a glass-fronted building. There was blood. But don't ask.