At the door

Fiction. He had put on his jacket three times. The invitation was simple enough: a drink, somewhere public, nothing promised. They'd already discussed it. "You're allowed to be nervous," she said. "I know." "And you're allowed to change your mind." He looked down at the keys in his hand. "So are you," he said. They stood there for another minute. Then she took off her coat. The evening had changed before it even started.