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It was late and Kate had given up waiting for her date to come over. Men, she thought, with a sigh.
And what a waste - she'd been seeing this guy, Frank, for a few weeks now. They'd been getting along great: seen a couple of movies, eaten a few dinners, chatted to the early hours of the morning. She'd even hinted that tonight would be -the- night. And she'd meant it - had gone shopping that day at the lingerie shop in her local department store.
But there she sat, alone. A half-empty bottle of wine, a pair of half-burnt-out candles, all dressed up in satin and lace with nobody to appreciate it.
With quiet resignation, Kate grabbed the wine glasses (one used and one, sadly, still clean) by the stems and took them to the kitchen. She opened one of the top cupboards and slid the unused glass back amongst it's set, then placed the other on the sink.
Her heart fluttered as she heard a knock at the door. Was it Frank? Was he here, finally?
