Right on Time

        What was she doing? he did't say it out loud, knew better than to pose such a question out of the blue. Especially out of the blue when obviously she wasn't doing anything wrong, bad, or evil...whatever negative adjective you wanted to employ, but what she appeared to be doing slowly, very slowly, was nothing.

He was dressed, ready to walk out the door. Too early. Well, yes, early, because he liked to be early, and it wasn't that hard to get dressed, tie your shoes, put on the coat and...and...wait.

What was she doing! As far as he could tell she appeared to be dressed: dress on. Shoes on, even earrings. Not the same earrings he saw the last time he looked, but jewelry, a suitable adornment. And she looked good, even beautiful. He'd told her so--a compliment, a sincere compliment had always worked in the past. "You look great!" he said, enthusiastically he hoped, not impatiently. "Really great!" 

Too much. His impatience showing. He should have said it just once.

"Thank you!" she trilled and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Again.

He looked at his watch. Well, still time. If they left now, they'd be 15 minutes early and she'd insist they wait in the car until exactly 6:30 before ringing the doorbell. Nobody likes early guests, she'd explained.

Well. Okay. He took a breath, looked at his watch. Nobody likes late guests either, he should have said. They still had a chance to be on time though, if she'd...

"Are you ready?" She startled him.

"What do you think?"

She laughed, took his arm, said, "You look great," before he could say it to her. "And, we're right on time."

Again.