Hannah
The chair across from me remained suspiciously empty, and all I could do was nervously fidget with my napkin. The waiter had come by three times already, each visit more pointed than the last. I checked my phone again—still no word from Zoe.
I kept telling myself that she would come, even though I had been sitting here for more than thirty minutes past our meeting time. Scott had assured me he had set up this meeting. He wouldn’t lie, right?
Soon, an hour passed. Then two. The sympathetic looks from the staff were becoming unbearable. I had gone from sipping my coffee to practically gulping it down, my nerves frayed and my patience wearing thin.
Finally, frustration overtook my patience. I stood up abruptly, tossing some cash on the table for my now-cold coffee.
