Her hands were cold, she noticed half-way between ordering the first glass of non-alcoholic champagne and option for white wine with her fish starter. Nana was late, but it wouldn't be the first time. They both had busy lives and the convention was that if you got there first, you could order. It was as good incentive as any, really.
Drumming her fingertips against her glass, she swept a look around the restaurant. It was never crowded and Sundays were no exception. Off in one corner, an elderly couple were eating in silence, their heads bowed against starched collars. Two tables down, two men were touching and speaking animatedly. Their closeness spoke volumes.
Amy found herself looking away, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. Why couldn't she have that?
Everyone in the restaurant was accompanied save for her. This was why she was always the one to be late.