Mara stared at her phone, the screen flickering like a dying firefly. ‘Not now,’ she whispered, slamming it against her palm. The notification had been urgent: *Dad’s 60th birthday dinner—7 PM*. Now, it was 6:59, and her phone died mid-emoji. She cursed the battery that had promised 24 hours of ‘normal use.’
She sprinted to the subway, phone tucked under her arm like a wounded bird. At the platform, she spotted a guy with a charger cable coiled around his wrist. ‘Sir, can I borrow—?’ He yanked his arm back. ‘Not for you.’ His headphones blared a bassline so loud, it shook the bench.
Mara sprinted to the restaurant, only to find her dad outside, waving a cake like a flag of surrender. ‘You’re late!’ he barked. She gasped, ‘I’m so sorry—my phone—’
‘Your phone? I called your number six times! Your mom answered and said you were ‘unreachable.’’ He gestured to the table, where her mom sat, surrounded by empty wine bottles and a deflated balloon. ‘We ordered pizza.’
Mara froze. The pizza box sat there, half-eaten, with a note: *‘Sorry for the wait. Enjoy your day!’* She turned to her dad, who was now eating a slice with a fork. ‘You… you didn’t wait?’, she stammered.
He shrugged. ‘I’m 60. I’ve waited 60 years for this. I’m not waiting 61.’ He took a bite, sauce dripping down his chin. ‘Now, where’s the cake?’
