Strangers. E.B. Axelrod

Ted and Martha were late. Having lingered over French-press coffee and a true English Trifle at the nearby brasserie, they now had little chance of getting prime seats for the cabaret performance at Club Zee. Martha raced across Leicester Square, several paces ahead of Ted who seemed to be unaware of the need to hurry. She had purchased the tickets well in advance of their departure from Chicago, but that wouldn't matter if they ended up stuck behind a pillar.