The Escape

He walked in, donned in a polo neck and dark green slacks, with his typical messed-up hair, she knew before even looking up that he had arrived. The strong aroma of his cologne was hard to ignore.

Finally, she lifted her head of burnished, burgundy tresses; her green eyes darting towards his face. He slowly bent over the table, waiting for her pent up anger to erupt...

She stood up, pushed her chair in and trampled to the door,

"Don't you ever be this late again." She muttered, fuming with rage.

"Alright." He mumbled under his breath as he picked up her baggage. 'Is that all?' he has wanted to ask but knew it would make her explode again. So he silently stuffed his blue Maserati with the bags, slipped on his sun-glasses and whiffed off to their ultimate escape.