Patience, the other lion, could barely be seen through the thick snow. It was a record dump, they were saying. It felt like it. He looked at his watch once more, but it showed that exactly as much time had passed midnight as he had measured it for himself. Thirteen minutes. It was only thirteen minutes, he told himself. She could have had trouble getting a cab in this weather. Maybe she was flying in and her plane was delayed. He had no idea where she was coming from. She could even live here in New York once more, in which case, where was she? He mentally marked the passing of another seven minutes, which made her late by any standard of protocol. There were very few people out on the street, but every time a human shape appeared through the driving snow, shuffling along with their head down, he found himself holding his breath, only to let it go once they passed him.
What do You think about Wait (Beloved Bloody Time)?
