The sun has started to set, and he’s looking at me across the table. Around us people are talking, and I glance down to check the time. Almost six. Almost time. His cousin is saying something about work and I’m trying to pay attention. I’m trying to give him eye contact and encourage him to talk around this group of predominantly strong women who have clearly taken the lead on conversing. For a month now, he’s been talking about me being in Charleston by six this evening. I took the day off work as soon as he asked, but he wouldn’t give me so much as a hint. He only asks me what I think it could be. Well how do you answer that? I have no idea. I spend hours in my head all day, amused by myself for my own entertainment. What do I think it could be? Anything. I imagine a picnic by the sea, but we had eaten dinner already. I imagine a museum, but why the time? Everything would be closed by then. I think maybe a carriage ride, but the timing again was critical. Why six? Why so important ...
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