The Wait
It was a time of waiting. She understood that well enough. It was such a curious thing, waiting, she thought. To be in the midst of it was aching. Unbearable, almost. And yet, somehow, the bearing happened. Reflection amidst it helped. Likewise small redirections of one's thoughts. But if one thought about waiting too much, one would jump out of one's skin. Yes, she thought. That is exactly what one felt one would do. And yet, for all that, she knew that once the wait was over, it was forgotten. In an instant. As though it had never been. Lost in that hole where past time goes, so much shorter retrospectively than should be possible according to the laws of physics. So she mused as she stepped to the head of the line. Then she paid for her coffee and went home.