I scrubbed at my face with my sleeve, angry at being caught in a moment of weakness. "No. No, I'm about as far from OK as it's possible to be."

I looked up, then away, ashamed at the state I was in. He was tall, and dressed in what under other circumstances would have counted as a really nice suit, but the effect was spoiled by the stubble and the mane of brown, disheveled hair.

"May I sit?"

"Why?"

"Because you look like you need a sympathetic ear."

I scrubbed at my face again, wincing as pain lanced through my arm. "Are you going to try to sell me something?"...