Not Yet

“Alice, I want to tell you something…I- I love you.”

A string of spaghetti dropped from Alice’s fork. She inspected it post-fall.

“Oh, I see.”

John fidgeted in his seat eagerly awaiting the hoped for response.

“Well, that’s really nice to know, John.”

John felt like an idiot.

“Really nice? So you don’t love me?”

Alice inspected the rapidly congealing spaghetti on her plate.

“Hm, no I don’t think so, not yet anyway.”

John dived onto the ‘yet’;

“Oh! So you think you might? How soon?” he asked, plaintively.

“Could you ask me again in a month?”