The Half Empty Glass

"Are you married?"

"No - and why is that always the question of choice?" she asked in exasperation.

"Comes with age," he laughed. "The meeting times are short now, and one only has a few minutes to get the essentials out of the way - marriages, children, career.. You know, that checklist?"

She laughed in assent, dipped her head towards him. "Touche. Are you married?"

"No, not yet. Funny, I never really thought about it much until now. I once thought I would be married when we hit this age, but it never was something that I actively thought about. I always assumed it would just happen, you know? Meet a nice girl, get married, have children. Living that good life."

"Isn't it a bitch when life doesn't turn out the way you imagine it would?"

"Tell me about it," he sighed. "Perhaps we should do that pact thing that people always talk about - if we both unmarried at 30, we'll get hitched to each other."

She smiled slightly. "That's funny. I used to have the biggest crush on you."

He startled, seeing her through different eyes. She'd always been that beautiful confidant, that sarcastic, trusty partner in crime, and this was the first time he'd ever seen that vulnerable look on her face - the first time he'd ever seen her as a woman with feelings.

"Me? You're kidding right?"

"Why not? You're a good looking guy. Most women in the office practically wet their panties when you walk through the door. And I have to admit, you annoy me marginally less than the rest of the male population."

The walls were back up, the glimpse of vulnerability was fleeting, replaced with her usual joking exterior.

"Hey, why didn't we ever give things a go?"

She was silent, contemplative.

"Who knows? The timing was never right. You were seeing someone else, I was seeing someone else, we were busy with work... Or perhaps it's because we're like fireworks. We get too close and we'll explode. And unless you're in a movie, explosions are never really a good thing." She laughed again, but this time he could hear the strain behind her attempt at comedy.

"Well, who's to say this might not be our movie?"

She smiled. "Life, I think. We'll see. We're no longer those fresh faced hopefuls from so many years ago, you know? We're just you and me now, slightly older, slight more disillusioned, slightly more cynical. I don't know if happy endings exist anymore."

"You used to be the one who always had the half full glass," he grumbled, feeling rejected.

She knew him too well, and wondered if she'd said the wrong thing - but the seeds of possibility had been planted in both their minds.

It would only be a matter of time.