Begin Again

Chapter XII. Liquor

It's cold.

That's my first thought when I woke up on Saturday.

But after several more thoughts and a coffee to wake me up from the sudden tiredness through the second hour of being in this conference room, I pass by Finley's cubicle while I was leaving, having finalised the rough copy of next month's issue and mailed it already. Finley is a middle aged man, a black beard covering half his face and black hair reaching. He had his phone to his ear, not knowing what he was saying since I was out of earshot, but his distraught expression was saying enough.

I walked away though. I didn't know the guy, and never really interacted with him.

What occupied my mind next, was how I was almost an hour late for Harry and I's friendly date.  I know I should have called him or texted him I'd be late or to rain check...but I forgot my phone. And my heart is in my throat at this point as I drove warily to the café that's near my apartment.

He'll think I bailed out.

He'll hate me.

I'm so screwed.

Oh God.

Dear God.

Those frantic thoughts kept rolling in my mind and I'm panting at this point without any physical activity, why am I like this?

He's probably not there now.

Why would he still be there?

Damn it, he'll really hate me.

At this point, even though I'm close to my destination, I can feel the hesitation and anxiousness getting to me and I almost decide to just go to my apartment or escape somewhere. He can't be still there. He just- why would he? Right?

But I did tell him yesterday that I had work before I met with him...surely he might have thought of that?

An hour late though?

I curse in my head and park in the lot, despite the cold weather I can feel myself sweat, more so in my palms as they're so damp and I decide on leaving my coat on the passenger seat and take my bag. God, I'm too embarrassed.

I swear he hates me right now.

I would hate me.

God, the stupid magazine just had to have those "minor" errors. If o-

Nope. Don't blame anyone.

Right.

I take a deep breath, pushing the door open to the place with my head hung low. He's not there, isn't he?

How would you know if you don't look?

I grimace as I slowly scan the nearly empty place, which actually gives me a good view of it than the usual time when it's too packed to notice the design.

But that's not what I'm looking for.

As I expected, he's not there. But not as I hoped.

I'm just great at this stuff, aren't I?

I sigh and shake my head, walking out the café with a slight pout on my lips.

My last thought of this day is that it's a disaster, and I didn't touch my phone when I got home. I can't. I'm too embarrassed and I don't even know what I should tell him.