Yasmina looked down at one of the ‘winner’s postcards’ that she and Ray were half-heartedly stuffing into envelopes.

‘YOU’VE WON AN ALL EXPENSES TRIP TO NEW YORK WITH $20,000 SPENDING MONEY!’ it declared. ‘CALL US NOW ON 08975 987 654! DON’T MISS OUT ON YOUR HOLIDAY OF A LIFETIME! CALL NOW!’

She let out a sigh. ‘Does this job ever depress you?’ she asked.

Ray frowned.

‘Why would this depress me?’ he asked in his usual deadpan tone. ‘Look at me. I’m living the dream.’

Yasmina smiled. Thank God for Ray. If it wasn't for him, she’d probably have lost the will to live over the last six weeks. This job had to be the most monotonous thing she’d ever done. Why the agency had called it fulfilment was beyond her; there was nothing at all fulfilling about stuffing envelopes with the kind of junk mail that she hoped would be dropped straight in the bin. It seemed a futile task. Still, at least there was only a week left. And spending the summer with Ray hadn’t exactly been a hardship. In fact, she thought now, she’d probably miss him when they returned to university at the end of the month.

‘Okay,’ Ray said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Either/or. Would you rather do this job for the rest of your life or smell so strongly of rotten eggs that no one ever came within three metres of you.’

Yasmina narrowed her eyes as she thought. ‘And I couldn’t get rid of the smell?’

Ray shook his head. ‘It’d make people gag.’

‘Like big Julie from HR?’

‘Like big Julie from HR.’

Yasmina rested her elbows on the high table, her head in her hands. If she was in this job for the rest of her life, she might be at risk of letting her brain turn to mush, but at least she’d have an income. If, however, she carried around the stench of rotten eggs, there was a chance she’d have no friends, job, confidence or love-life. But she’d not have to spend her days in a poky room in a retail park on the outskirts of Newbury. This was definitely one of Ray’s better ‘either/or’s.

‘I’d smell of rotten eggs,’ she said at last.

‘Interesting,’ said Ray with complete sincerity. ‘Would you care to elaborate?’

‘Well, I’d probably get used to it over time. And so would the people around me. I could get a job working outside. But if I stayed here, I think my soul would just slip away.’ She shrugged. ‘I’d be like Jordan, but without the tits or money. And I don’t want that.’

Ray smiled. ‘Nobody wants that.’

‘My turn?’

‘Go on.’

They carried on stuffing envelopes while Yasmina thought of an equally good ‘either/or’.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Would you rather have footballs for hands or rugby balls for feet.’

‘Would I be able to walk with rugby ball feet?’

‘You’d have to be taught again.’

‘And if I had footballs for hands, would I be able to pick anything up?’

‘Well, how would you?’

‘Good point.’

With his brow furrowed, Ray stared through her for what felt like an eternity. Feeling her face flush red, she looked away and hoped he hadn’t noticed. God, was it possible she was developing a crush on him?

‘I’ll have to go for the rugby ball feet,’ Ray said eventually.

‘Because?’

‘Because at least I could learn to walk again. Or I could get shoes made to fit the balls in, so that I was still walking on a flat surface. But if I couldn’t pick anything up or touch anything, that would be the worst. So it’s rugby ball feet for me.’

Yasmina laughed. ‘Do you know how serious you looked just then? You’d think I’d asked you the meaning of life.’

Ray nodded to the high stack of envelopes. ‘You mean this isn’t it?’

She groaned. ‘Christ, can you imagine?’

They each turned back to stuffing envelopes; Simply Red’s ‘Fairground’ played on the radio in the background.

Aware of eyes upon her, Yasmina looked up to see that Ray was watching her.

‘What?’ she said, self-conscious. She brushed her cheek with her hand. ‘Have I got something on my face?’

He shook his head. ‘I was just thinking of another either/or.’

‘And?’

Ray cleared his throat. ‘Would you rather go out for a drink with me tonight or tomorrow night?’