Emoji sent,
      heart racing,
      assuming you’d arrive,
      invitation never sent,
        etiquette discarded,
         protocol violation—

             rookie mistake.

An hour slips softly by—
             no worries,
         just Mari-time,
    another Irby’s lull.

“Second nap?” I tease.

Your reply: “lol no.”

That silence after?
     utterly deafening—
     loud enough to make me
     check our texts again,

     stomach dropping straight through my seat.

I never asked.
  Just sat there,
  frozen with excitement,
  grinning like a punk,
  *clueless*,

  waiting for you… to what?

To guess,
   suggest…

   magically appear?

Your voice later—
     forgiving but bruised,
          quietly confused,

     disappointment bleeding through the line.

Protocol re-engaged:
         Braves tonight?
         Make it right?
         I’ll bring the invitation this time.

This violation’s begging for correction, Mari.