The sandwich/pasta shop, just round the corner from an office. It's nearly two'o'clock, and the pasta dishes on the hotplates are mostly empty, the penne getting hard and crispy at the edges. The lunchtime rush has finished and there's only one man in the queue, a slightly built, neatly dressed office worker in a grey suit. The waitress is bagging his food. They are talking quietly together. The tail end of the conversation is impossible to ignore. 'So, perhaps you'd like to come for a drink one evening.' Almost thrown away. 'I…well, er.' Awkward silence. She stares down at the trays of over-heated pasta, blushing. After five agonisingly slow seconds she looks up and nods, briefly. The conversation is over, but it's a start. He says goodbye. She looks down again and her face is red, but smiling.