Cindy counted backwards from ten. This one’s a jerk; never looks at me. She opened her purse and removed a five dollar bill, slipping it under her coffee cup. “I have to go to the bathroom.” She stood and hesitated for an instant, considering telling him she wouldn’t be back. Jeez, didn’t his mother tell him that you shouldn’t talk and chew at the same time! Good thing I’ll only meet web dates at restaurants with a parking lot in back. She walked straight through, passed the bathrooms, and exited to the lot where her car was waiting.

Kenneth M. Kapp lives with his wife in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, writing late at night in his man-cave. He enjoys chamber music and mysteries. He has been nominated for the Pushcart Price. His stories have appeared in more than ninety publications worldwide including the Saturday Evening Post, October Hill Magazine, EgoPHobia in Romania, Lothlorien Poetry Journal in Ireland, and The Wise Owl in India. Find more of his stories at his site.