She thought Sophie didn’t look that pretty on her wedding day. But she didn’t know that one hour from the ceremony the flowers hadn’t arrived yet and Sophie’s dress ripped on the side, at the height of the shoulder blazes – the place Mark would have covered with his arm while sleeping if the night before they hadn’t quarreled and slept on the opposite sides of the bed.
He was struggling to get his ticket out. The creased hands shaking, although this had nothing to do with the queue of people that formed behind him.
She tapped the floor impatiently – it was 8:17 and she already was not aware of the amount of caffeine now spinning in her veins. Nonetheless, when he turned behind him with an astonished expression on his tired face, she did but smiled politely.