He’ll walk across the room, smiling his pleased smile.
She’ll plan to frown and walk away, but her lips will twitch, and the world will lighten, and she’ll wait for him. Soaking in every moment, like a dry sponge soaks up water, she’ll watch him stride over.
As he gets nearer, despite the thirst-quencher, her throat will dry up. So when he talks, she’ll mutter some sarcastic response.
He might hug her. The thought quickens her heartbeat. She must resist the temptation to hold on forever. Even though he’ll smell so good and fit just right, like her favourite jumper.