Word Count: 2,535
Rating: PG
You had just left the house, and you are now walking down the sidewalk to a fancy restaurant. Every Sunday, you and your friends meet up for a little brunch with a nice side of gossip.
Today however, you weren't feeling like your usual self. While all your friends had already sent out their applications for various universities, you still hadn't even narrowed down your list of school. It. . . It was just all so complicated.
Sighing, you knew that you would have to put on yet another fake smile and sit through all their university talk. Oh well, at least you were out of the house. Your mother had only been bugging you about your future and schools.
You let out another sigh and stopped for a minute. Breathing out, you tried to calm down. It was just any other day, right?
Oh, except you and your friends had decided to take a short trip down to London. And earlier this morning they all left you in the hotel to go shopping.
Great friends right?
Shaking your head, you continued walking down the street, trying to force the negativity from your mind. Everyone always said you were too honest sometimes, but it was hard not to be in a world full of deceit.
Arriving at the restaurant, the friendly waiter recognized you and sat you down immediately. It was a nice outside table in the corner of the patio, right near some hedges and a wrought iron fence. You ordered a glass of water as the waiter handed you a menu.
"Your friends coming too?" he asked politely.
"Uh. . . I think so," you said, hoping they wouldn't bail on you.
I mean, would they? Would they have the audacity to not only embarrass you, but to break your Sunday tradition?
Probably.
But they would at least send you a text first, right?
Feeling nervous, you yanked your phone out of your pocket and turned it on.
NO NEW TEXTS
Sighing, you set it back down on the table and took a sip of your water. Occasionally the waiter passed by and sent you a cheeky smirk, but besides that no one else talked to you. Time slowly crept by, and an hour later, you got up.
They weren't coming, were they?
The waiter walked past you and said, "Oh, are you leaving?" There was confusion and surprise in his voice. Guess he was as shocked as you.
"Yeah, I, uh, guess my friends aren't coming after all. . ."
"Well, that's weird. They're always here, aren't they?"
You bite you lip and the waiter walked away. You weren't really in the mood for conversations right now.
Leaving the restaurant in a hurry, you just followed the sidewalk out of there. You felt sick. You had a headache coming on, and you were hungry. Your friends had left you all alone and you didn't know what to do. None of them had texted you, with any updates and you didn't feel like talking to them.
I mean, how could they forget. All of you did this every Sunday. Your group came up every Sunday from the North to London. Like-
You sighed, and wiped a few tears that was running down your cheeks. Crying was not going to solve anything, and you should know that by now.
Moving your hands through your gingery brown hair, you let out a complicated sigh. Now not only did your friends ditch you, but you were now lost in London.
