It took less than five minutes to write the text - four of those were spent looking at it and making it so it was just right, and fighting against autocorrect - and soon enough John sent the text. He was giddy, and could barely contain the smile on his face. However, what real effects would his words have on her? Would her own interpretation of his words have a different effect than the one he intended? Suddenly John perked on his chair, face draining of colour.
"Maybe... maybe I shouldn't have used a method that depends on nuance to carry meaning."
The birds were chirping on a branch, and nearby a car sounded like it was being robbed. It probably was, for all intents and purposes. Waiting on a long queue, Marla was wearing her Thursday best, a scowl and nails long enough to probably cut a tomato. Behind her was an overweight man who hoped to get everything done by next month, and in front of her was a young woman texting her life away on her phone. How the latter could see her screen with the amount of light there, it was anyone's guess. Marla, however, was tapping her heels on the floor and dabbing at her forehead with a handkerchief.
"Come on, come on, come on," She muttered under her breath, looking at her wristwatch ever two seconds.
The queue moved, suddenly, lurching forward like a sloth reaching for a new branch. The young woman didn't notice at first and only moved after Marla tapped her shoudler with a dangerous knife of a nail and scowled quite intently at her. The woman - no more than a girl - didn't say a word and walked forward. When the queue stopped moving, however, Marla simply said, "Shit!" She stomped her foot on the floor, cursing that she was but a foot away from the shade of the building. The young woman looked up from her phone for a moment, only to smugly smile at Marla.
A vibration stopped Marla from saying words best left unspoken. She checked her phone for the text and after a minute reading what was on the screen a smile crept over her face.
