Gah, why won’t she answer me? This is what the blond is thinking as her right hand deftly manipulates the smart phone, thumb flying back and forth between messages, Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Unconsciously, the fingers of her left hand twirl a pinch of her hair round and round her index finger, lets it go, grabs it again, twirl, twirl, twirl, lets it go; grab, twirl, release – a hundred times a minute.
Her breathing is shallow with excitement. Momentarily, her left hand abandons its task, picks up the Starbucks cup so she can suck down another huge gulp of her soy mocha latte. Her 28th birthday (ugh) is this summer but she still gulps loudly, like a child, when she swallows. Everyone notices; friends and strangers alike, but no one knows how to tell her. She doesn’t seem to know that anyone can hear from the outside what is going on in her mouth. Sometimes she swishes her drink around in her mouth for an eternity, oblivious to the distraction she causes.
Suddenly her phone vibrates. It is answered with a quick swipe of the thumb. She can contain herself no longer and blurts out the words that have been building inside her for the last 5 minutes since she heard them from the brunette.
“She must be pregnant….who get’s married on a Tuesday?”