blueberry

Deborah thumbed the marriage band on her finger while she waited on a wooden bench. The sun was dipping below the horizon. The neon sign for Dooley’s Bar & Grille buzzed above her. The dinner rush was at its peak.

“It’s been like five minutes. Maybe she cancelled?"

Deborah tapped her brand new shoes against the cement.

"I oughtta check, just in case.”

She took her brand new smartphone out of her designer purse. No new messages. Damn. She looked at her new wristwatch. Every second was agonizing. Each minute was an eternity.

It was a warm Sunday evening, with the sun about to set over Abbie's small but cosy countryside cottage. There she sat in the living room, with a piping hot aromatic cup of tea by the fireplace. Even though she felt as sick as a dog, she was so comfortable she was about to fall asleep, but before she could nod off she heard a rustling and clanging at her front door. Abbie yawned and stretched out of her hibernating position, and got up to walk slowly over to the entrance to investigate. A small parcel caught her eye beside the door.

"What?! Do you two have some sort of suicide pact or something?" Angela yelled at Clarissa and Janet.

Janet smiled, "What's wrong with wanting to have fun? We've been invited, so we should go."

"Because you will pop! That's why!" Angela screamed, her face turning red.

"So what? We all do eventually. Might as well be having fun when it happens."

"No, you're wrong. Not everyone pops." Angela shook her head. "Why did you even ask me? You both had to know I'd say no."

"We asked you to go because Thomas is the host." Janet smiled.