Time is elastic. Draws itself out interminably, stretching to an almost-breaking eternity - and yet you know it will spring back and be all-too-short when the day finally arrives. Waiting should not become an activity in its own right, but when the distractions do not have the power of the anticipated event, then they fail to fulfil their purpose and the clock ticks and tocks in slow motion.
Minutes and eventually hours crawl by. Everything feels pointless, the sky itself is holding its breath. Not long, not long now, a mantra of reassurance.
Soon, soon.
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