Around the Edges
By Brittany Roeper It was 7:32 p.m., and Eliza waited underneath the restaurant awning, barely out of reach of the rain. Wasn’t rain on your birthday supposed to be good luck? She would need it. Second dates were always iffy. She pulled her phone half-out of her coat pocket. There was still no reply to her text asking for an ETA. Just cold rain dripping into her hair. Give it another ten minutes, and then she’d decide whether to leave. She went inside to wait at the bar, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the hostess. Eliza ordered a white Russian. She thought about sipping it sparingly, but after two minutes, the glass was empty. After another drink, her ten minutes was up. As she walked home, she let the rain hit her and tried not to care. Around 8:30, after changing out of her nice clothes and detangling her wet hair, she decided to call it an early night. She walked into the kitchen in mismatched pajamas and warm wool socks. The cat was already perched on the counter, meowing
