Waiting
Andy moved the ketchup bottle in line with the salt shaker. The table looked tidier now. Like that would make a difference. Maisy would be here any minute.
She’s not going to notice the condiments. The voice in his head was cruel.
‘In a world where you can be anything, be kind,’ he thought, but the snide voice didn’t read inspirational quotes from faded teatowels.
He restored the sense of random, not wanting to show he’d been waiting long: planning explanations, preparing for her tears.
The quote didn’t advise what kind meant. Was he being kind telling her the truth?
elmowrites 