Standing in line outside of a club, nearing midnight, Mishka was questioning numerous life choices. Ranging from the minor - why had she decided to wear uncomfortable shoes, like an idiot? - to more serious - why had she trusted her friend to actually show up on time? Or at all.
She rose up on tippie toe, trying to see how far the line had progressed, glancing around her and obsessively at her phone. Hoping desperately that Allie wouldn’t stand her up.
Like on Tuesday. Or Thanksgiving. Or her grandmother’s funeral.
Any day that ended in Y, really.
Still nothing on the phone. She turned to look at the back of the lineup, hoping to see a familiar face - instead she caught full eye contact with the person standing behind her. Rather than a smooth smile or an introduction, Mishka opted for an about-face and then an awkward minute of stiff backed silence before turning slightly back to the person, and saying, “Sorry I was just looking for someone.”