Interesting Possibilities
Claire Roselli paused at the sound of the doorbell, glancing up from the last of the dinner dishes in the sink to the wall clock above. The clock read a quarter to seven, pointing out to the forty year old that she was running about thirty minutes late. At least according to the evening’s original plans. Laying that last dish on the drying rack, Claire dried her hands on a nearby towel and then walked the short ten feet to the apartment door. It only took a further few moments to undo the...