“We need to talk,” said Jen, grinding coffee, her face stern. “I know about last night.”
“Oh God, Jen, I’m so sorry. It meant nothing. I was drunk and she—”
“What I was going to say,” Jen interrupted, “is that I know about the five hundred quid you loaned Tom.”
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Posted in response to 
The prompt is Grind
The image is my own.