He wants me to stop talking. He's not even paying attention. He's been looking at the same spot for the last three minutes. His eyes have no sparkle, and he's normally prestige posture was gone. His hands were deep in his pockets and she could hear him messing with his keys. Not only did he want her to shut up, he wanted to leave. His foot tapped the end of the table prompting her to speed up her sentence, or just leave it hanging in mid air. He probably wouldn't care either way, he might not even notice if she stopped talking altogether. She pushed her hair behind her ear and stared at the floor. She opted to leave her sentence hanging mid air, no need to entertain an audience who doesn't want to be entertained. Her eyes dropped even further, if that was possible, she felt like crying but knew she couldn't. So instead she focused on trying to burn holes into the black and chestnut colored floor. Black and chestnut, whoever had decorated this place seriously needed some help. The tapping had stopped and the sound of his keys and wallet hitting the table had snapped her out of her daydream. Well nice talking to you, he said as he slid out of the seat. Yeah she answered shyly. With maybe just a tinge of regret and too much sadness, he'd catch on. She made sure she had heard the metallic clink of the door shutting before she looked at her phone. 27 minutes. That's all they were they for. 27 minutes. It would take her longer to get home. She sat down and sighed, putting her arm under her chin and stirring her already dripping and somewhat melted coffee. This definitely wasn't a Cinderella story, at least not one she wanted to be a part of.
