Stood Up

EMBER

My mother always told us to respect other people by being on time. As flaky as I could be, I always tried to heed that advice. Glancing down at my rose-gold knockoff watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, I realized I was the only one of my mother’s children who had paid attention during that particular lesson.

I was sitting at a small round table in the center of the bistro Ryan and I had agreed to meet at. It smelled like melted cheese and pastries, vegetable soup and a hundred other mouthwatering aromas I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

My stomach growled, and I took another sip of my water, utterly dissatisfied with the taste given how delicious everything else in the room looked and smelled. When the server came by earlier, I told her I would wait before placing my order.

She kept giving me sympathetic looks now, almost thirty minutes after I had told her I was waiting for someone to arrive. Obviously, she thought I had been stood up and that I was still holding out