Micro Fiction

Waiting

Rays of the rising sun had entered the room caressing my body into consciousness. The gown I wore clung to me as I struggled to rise; it was morning.

“I’ll pick you up by seven,” he’d said, his lips thick and eyes bright. But as I stared at the opera tickets on the night stand, a lump caught in my throat; a perfidious punch hitting me. He had not, come and I had fallen asleep waiting for him.

The day dragged on but was soon over and I just sat watching as rays of the setting sun bathed the dark room.