We were comfortable, really, enjoying the plush leather and reading about, you know, boring stuff. We'd worked out, so Operation Lose 12-pounds in Two Weeks was an early success (don't ask).
Around 7:59, as is always the case, the man exited first, door slamming passive-aggressively behind him. He never says anything. Ever. He looks as he's quietly judging himself and blaming others in the room, namely us, for doing the same thing.
His wife came out next, quiet like him. She made brief eye contact with us, and smiled. Standard. Her smile was apologetic and pretty. While shy, her smile also demands -- screams, even -- that she deserves better and she's not happy.
He left first. She fell in line behind him.
Minutes later, a young couple came into the room.
"We probably would have been here sooner if maybe you met me earlier," said the guy who never, ever, comes on time. Most weeks, the woman is sitting on the same plush leather couch we are, reading Good Housekeeping or US Weekly.
"Wait," she said. "We're late because of me? How is this possible?"
The two disappeared behind the door, which slammed again. Man that door has some issues.
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