The Time Bomb

         Claire’s brain felt fuzzy.  There was too much pressure.  She had to think: blue or red?  There was a lot riding on this decision.  If she made the wrong choice…it was all over. 
         “Come on, Claire,” Mark said, anxiously. 
         “Just give me a minute,” Claire growled.
         “We don’t have a minute.”
         Claire felt sweat building up on her brow; pouring down the side of her face, slipping into her eyes.  She could barely see.  She could barely breathe.  Her body quaked.  She felt like she was going to pass out.  She could already see it in her mind’s eye: her failure, the explosions.  Her hand darted from left to right, blue to red. 
         “Please, Claire, hurry up.”  Claire could feel Mark bouncing on the balls of his feet behind her. 
         “I’m trying.  And would you cut that out?  You’re making me more nervous.”  Claire’s hand kept searching.  Which was the right one?
         “Claire…”
         Claire stayed focused.  There had to be something, some way to know which was the right one.
         “Claire, you’re out of time…”
         “No, I can’t choose.”
         “Just pick one.  Any one.  Now.”
         “Fine!” Claire exclaimed, ripping the blue blouse off of the store rack.  “Let me pick the wrong one, let everyone laugh when I look like a total reject tomorrow because you rushed me into picking the shirt that makes me look like a hippopotamus.”  Claire trudged over to the cashier and paid for the shirt.  Mark jogged over, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out the door right as the cashier put up the “Closed” sign. 
         “It doesn’t matter.  You’re going to look beautiful in your pictures tomorrow, as always,” Mark cooed.  “Now come on, I don’t want to miss the movie.  This is a date, remember?”