He was pacing back and forth. His dress pants making a slight swifting noise with every step.

"They should have been here by now," Tom said breathing heavily.

"They will get here when they get here," I replied as I tried to relax on his couch.

We were in his office and we had an important meeting.

It was with a new set of clients who had a nasty reputation. We were suppose to change that for them, however, they were late for the first meeting. A bad sign.

First impressions are everything here. Tom and I rarely discuss anything but work, so when personal life situations are added to the conversations it still feels like we are making our first impressions with each other.

"Fifteen minutes late," Tom said. "This isn't good."

"Fifteen minutes is nothing to worry about," I said as calmly as possible. "Thirty minutes is when we should be concerned."

See, the client, a known alcoholic, was also known for showing up to meetings late. The later he showed up, usually the worse shape he was.

The clock continued to tick and I looked at my watch while Tom continued to pace the room. His steps were in stride with the hands on my watch.

Thirty minutes pass.

Forty five minutes pass.

An hour goes by.

"We need to contact him," Tom said.

"Fine," I reply.

The secretary gets ahold of his office.

He died in a car accident on his way over. He was hit by a drunk driver she said.