He looked at the clock, even though he knew it had to be past 10:00.
He changed out of his clothes, leaving the envelope on the nightstand by his bed. The politician part of his mind slowly groaned to life as he tossed and turned under the sheets. I'll tell her I thought she meant tomorrow. Tell her she knew I had something planned then, so I assumed she meant tomorrow.
He wasn't entirely sure if he thought she'd fall for that, but he didn't care. He had his story, that was all he cared about. And even though there was no such meeting, he had no doubt he could get at least 10 people to swear that it had in fact happened.
He stood up then - it was clear he wasn't getting to sleep any time soon - and he grabbed the envelope on his way to the kitchen. He always had some cheap wine hidden somewhere.
A few minutes later, after taking the cork out and finding a glass, he sat at the table with the letter in front of him. It suddenly dawned on him that he had no idea why he cared so much. Was it the way she had looked at him? Or was he truly just feeling guilty about missing it?
A noise surprised him and nearly caused him to drop his wine glass.