I’m not much of a writer, please be kind
The clock ticks closer and closer to six. I have about fifteen minutes left, and everything is almost ready. Music plays softly in the background, dinner is warm in the oven, and I just finished the last touches on my makeup. Ten more minutes. My heart starts to race faster. I nervously smooth the soft fabric of my white lace dress and absentmindedly fool with the charm on my collar. Five more minutes.
In a last minute fit of paranoia I go to put one more fresh coat of lipstick on. His GPS still puts him a few minutes out, but I can’t help but to run to my place by the bedroom door. My eyes are glued to the GPS as I start to practice my pose. Arms behind my arched back, on my knees, looking upwards. I shut the phone off and hear Andrew walk up the stairs slowly.