Patiently Waiting
Over 25 years ago a coworker set me up on a blind date. The evening arrived, and I was a little early at the restaurant. Feeling anxious, I ordered a drink, and chatted with the waitress, telling her I was on a blind date. After the first drink, I checked the time and my date was 15 minutes late.
City traffic. I figured. But the seed of doubt was planted. I finished the second drink quickly while battling new anxiety mixed with doubt, and a bit of fear. I took a deep breath, sighed, and tried to relax. “Still waiting?” the waitress asked, startling me out of my worry. I tried to laugh, but it felt hollow.
Checking the time again, my date is now 45 minutes late. I felt terrible—but I didn’t know this chilling truth. My face was red and I wanted to shrink into the booth. At the hour mark I couldn’t take it anymore and gave up. As I was paying, my waitress found me. “She stood you up,” and I just nodded.
Then I walked out the door and went home. I found out two days later, my date had passed in an auto accident on the way to the restaurant. Story credit: Reddit / aeon314159