Irene and I talked for a little while longer before she had to get back to work again. Or at least, I tried to anyway. Every string of conversation I initiated, she'd more or less quickly cut short with a curt response; rinse and repeat until she packed up her things and left her seat.
All the signs pointed to me souring her mood, but Irene, apparently a clairvoyant to my private thoughts, quickly clarified that she was just fine and nothing was wrong.
I've heard tales and rumors of this exact moment; when a woman tells you that nothing is wrong and everything's all fine and dandy. Now, if the legends are to be believed, then I'm in some serious shit.
Then again, maybe I could be reading too much into it. For the sake of my mental state, I'm just gonna go along with the latter.
"Pick me up after work," Irene said, standing beneath the exit with what seemed to be a genuine smile. "Don't be late."
