I check my watch.
Only fifteen minutes…
Maybe the traffic is bad…
The barman c***s a brow at my empty glass, and I push it across the counter for a refill. The door swings wide and I crane to see, but it’s not Borje. Only some stranger bringing the chill night air in with him.
You wouldn’t stand me up…
Would you?
Plenty of others have…
My arms goose and a frisson shivers through me. The strappy top I’m wearing looks good, showing off my shoulders and neckline, but perhaps wasn’t the best choice for the weather.
Sitting alone, bored and waiting, then worried and waiting, perhaps I drink more quickly than I should. I’ve almost emptied my glass again, and now my watch tells me Borje is thirty minutes overdue.
The door swings wide and Borje, flush-faced, hair tousled, all but sprints
