She
approached me with shaky steps. She was holding the tray as if her life depended on it. She
struggled to move with the orange juice without tripping. Head down, aware of the inquisitive eyes of her
boss and frightened by the number of guests occupying the terrace stumbled a
few feet in front of me. Fortunately, the bright orange liquid did not reach me
but left a small puddle on the tile floor.
