He slowly poured the drink over a large chunk of ice he has especially chiseled off a larger block. He didn't particularly like his drinks cold, but he knew that the drama of chiseling the ice and then pouring a drink over it looked far more impressive than how he actually liked it. It was all about image and he'd managed to perfect the image that he wanted to project.
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Her mom had warned her. She had been warned time and again, but she had refused to believe her. She had done everything right and she knew she would be rewarded for doing so with the promotion. So when the promotion was given to her main rival, it not only stung, it threw her belief system into disarray. It was her first big lesson in life, but not the last.
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I guess we could discuss the implications of the phrase "meant to be." That is if we wanted to drown ourselves in a sea of backwardly referential semantics and other mumbo-jumbo. Maybe such a discussion would result in the determination that "meant to be" is exactly as meaningless a phrase as it seems to be, and that none of us is actually meant to be doing anything at all. But that's my existential underpants underpinnings showing. It's the way the cookie crumbles. And now I want a cookie.
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