Among The Waiting (9/23/1995)
Among The Waiting (9/23/1995)






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chronosbandit
chronosbandit A temporal fugitive…
Autoplay OFF   •   5 months ago
The waiting mind wanders but the wanderer doesn't mind waiting.

Among The Waiting (9/23/1995)

Among The Waiting (9/23/1995) I stood among the waiting. Each of us claimed a little column of air, a tiny zone of habitation.

Among The Waiting (9/23/1995) I stood among the waiting. Each of us claimed a little column of air, a tiny zone of habitation. Collectively we shifted from foot to foot in impatience.

The clock on the wall stumbled over the seconds.

The clock on the wall stumbled over the seconds. The air was pliable

The clock on the wall stumbled over the seconds. The air was pliable like chewing gum

The clock on the wall stumbled over the seconds. The air was pliable like chewing gum newly stuck

The clock on the wall stumbled over the seconds. The air was pliable like chewing gum newly stuck under a bench.

A pigeon with a mutated foot ineffectually flapped as it climbed the invisible steps to its perch. I

A pigeon with a mutated foot ineffectually flapped as it climbed the invisible steps to its perch. I could smell the distant solidification of stale carbohydrates masquerading as pretzels.

My heart was still pounding. Why had I run here only to wait?

My heart was still pounding. Why had I run here only to wait? A bead of sweat clung to my earlobe as if the departing fingers of summer had left me

My heart was still pounding. Why had I run here only to wait? A bead of sweat clung to my earlobe as if the departing fingers of summer had left me one

My heart was still pounding. Why had I run here only to wait? A bead of sweat clung to my earlobe as if the departing fingers of summer had left me one last

My heart was still pounding. Why had I run here only to wait? A bead of sweat clung to my earlobe as if the departing fingers of summer had left me one last gift.

My eyes scanned the crowd. Who was I looking for?

My eyes scanned the crowd. Who was I looking for? Who would be here on a Saturday morning?

A young woman with overlarge earrings and hair that flowed past the small of her back glanced at me as she brushed past. My mind registers that she is attractive.

I wondered if someone somewhere dreamed about her. Does he pray for just such a chance encounter as this?

I wondered if someone somewhere dreamed about her. Does he pray for just such a chance encounter as this? Had she invaded his space, would he call it a miracle?

I wondered if someone somewhere dreamed about her. Does he pray for just such a chance encounter as this? Had she invaded his space, would he call it a miracle? Would he profess his unwavering love?

Would passion interweave the very threads of their fates?

Would passion interweave the very threads of their fates? No. It wouldn't.

Would passion interweave the very threads of their fates? No. It wouldn't. Because he isn't here. I am.

Would passion interweave the very threads of their fates? No. It wouldn't. Because he isn't here. I am. And to me, his muse is just another islander waiting for the ferry.

My wanderer self exhaled loudly, adjusting his backpack and tying back his long hair. Our eyes meet.

My wanderer self exhaled loudly, adjusting his backpack and tying back his long hair. Our eyes meet. "I thought we would never get away from that place," he says.

My wanderer self exhaled loudly, adjusting his backpack and tying back his long hair. Our eyes meet. "I thought we would never get away from that place," he says.

"The apartment?"

"Yes."

"We were only home for eight hours."

"Far too long. I need to wander free."

The doors opened. The escaping throng lurched forward.

The doors opened. The escaping throng lurched forward. Manhattan called.

The doors opened. The escaping throng lurched forward. Manhattan called. We answered.

Thank you for reading!

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