Pacing, feet sticking to the cold tile. Eyes gazing – glaring at the clock. Waves crash in,
A hasty pop of the knuckles, unlock the phone to stare at the time. The pace continues. Back and fourth, wandering. Almost feeling taunted, teased, if you will. Crunch, the sound of teeth closing on on a chip. The gaze is broken, but only for a second. A flicker of light, a small reflection, distractions – but not large enough. Curling toes, gnawing on the inside of your own cheek. The anxious ‘can’t sit still’ brewing in the bottom of your stomach. The biting of nails, picking at scabs, every inch of your body seemed to be itching,
Perhaps somewhere, a form of cruel and unusual punishment – but here, it was only normal. The frustration after much anticipation, and longing. Almost there, to your destination, but not quite. Just enough so that you can taste it and smell it… but you know, you’re not there yet.
Perhaps it’s all a tease.
“Leave it” the trainer would say, dropping small treats infront of a patient dog. He gazed longingly at the treats, smelling them, tasting them in the air. The dog spread his jaws into a large yawn and licked his lips uncomfortably as the treat lie but a few inches from his paw. So close he knew he could beat his trainer to them, but still, he waited.
What was the point of it all? The waiting, the anxiety, the stress.
Perhaps there is a point. Perhaps the end result is worth the pacing, nail biting, wait.