John held his breath as he opened the box. A hush settled over the restaurant; all the patrons waited anxiously for a response with him. His knee started to hurt and his hand trembled.

“Will you?” he asked again. His voice croaked, because his heart had risen up into his throat and obstructed his vocal chords. Sheryl’s eyes filled with tears that did not fall. Hope, John thought, a glimmer of hope.

A waiter broke the silence by crashing through the door with his desert cart. It went unnoticed. They were united as one; the entire restaurant was caught up in the romance of the moment.

Sheryl smacked the dog shit out of him. There was a sharp intake of breath as an elderly lady’s face crumpled in dismay.

His heart broke into tiny pieces. “I…I…you…”

“Shut up,” she snatched the ring out of his hands. “I think my sister will want to pawn this after I tell her what a twisted sleeziod you really are.” She turned on her heel and left.

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