C5 What is He Hiding

Jack was late.

It wasn’t like him. He was the kind of man who showed up five minutes early to everything, exuding control and precision in every aspect of his life. Tonight, though, I sat alone at the small café table, my coffee growing cold, the minutes ticking by.

I looked at my phone again- message, no missed call.

Maybe something had come up. Jack was a busy man, after all