Twenty to two

She sat in the corner booth, according to the plan and at the anointed time. The message had been clear, not subject to interpretation. 1pm on Monday. Location also confirmed. Just this morning, in fact.

Now, at twenty to two, she stared at the poured cup of tea. The menu had already been sent back.

It seemed so promising, this one.

Four tables hence, twenty feet not more from there. He stared at teapot, cup and saucer. Unpoured, by choice. She seemed different from the others. She seemed to be one to keep her word.

It seemed so promising, this one.

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