The young woman held her head in her hands and wept. She felt the saltiness in her tears move towards her mouth and then she felt the taste. She was tired of the job and Mr Lawson's words were enough discouragement. She didn't care that the baby sleeping soundly in the cot beside her had had enough of the crude mixtures of soybean and crayfish. She didn't notice her lean body, gradually resembling that of the bonga fish. She had had enough and she had quit. Lanre had disappeared and with him, their rich friends who could help. She had looked at the ad several times her eyes hurt with the tears that reminded her there was no place for a struggling single mother in the corporate world. She looked over the ad again, then wiped her eyes with the tiny handkerchief lying on her bed. As surprising as it may be, she looked in her bag for the tiny skirt suit Late got her from one of his trips and brought it out. She ran her tiny hands over the small pressing iron and slowly ironed the suit. It was a new day, and she ought to try, for the baby's sake. Maybe this would be the start of new beginnings.