Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Livinghigh was here at 7:29 PM /

Not so long

Waiting at the corner, looking in at the glass, eyeing a book, a bag, and a pair of shoes. Light filters through to an arc that just contains your feet, and you notice it a bit, but not consciously. It's obvious, you're waiting.

Emotions. Struggling. To. Make. Themselves. Known. Stifled. Back. To. Incomplete. Sentences. There's. A. Kind. Of. Breathless. Joy. To. That. Also.

You can smell the coffee from the stall next door, and see the light shine on a sinful piece of chocolate dessert you suddenly feel yourself lusting after. Lust for that, imagine it before you, lick your lips, pierce it with your fork, encircle the globule of thick chocolate sauce with the tip of your tongue, ingest heaven.

Feel like a god, feel like a mortal, doomed to Sin, and Hunger, and, yes, even, Wait. (For gods don't have to wait for anything, do they?)

Now you look at the arc of light at your toes, and you wonder at its lightness. It's a golden weight that you bear there upon your feet, and you wonder idly how much longer it will take for you.

To hear a laugh (a salutation), to feel a touch (a whisper), to see a flourish (colour), to end your wait.

Not long now, Something in the golden arc assures you, not so very long at all.


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