He walked hurriedly down the stairs. Lunch break was his favorite hour of the day lately, better than going home in the evening and certainly better than weekends. Despite the stoic facade he revealed to the world, his heart raced with anticipation and he couldn't help but quicken his pace as he emerged through the revolving doors on the ground floor. The autumn day was cool and windy and, as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light of the outside world, he squinted across the street to the sidewalk café where he had been dining almost daily for quite some time.

There was, as usual, a sudden shortness of breath at the sight of her, sitting in the usual spot at the café. She had her back to him, but there was no mistaking who it was. With a cursory glance to each side, he crossed the street and took a seat at his usual place across from her. "Hi," she said as he sat, "you're late." With a sheepish smile and a murmur of apology, he flagged a waiter for his usual croissant and coffee.

* * *

She looked at him and wondered, as she had on so many other occasions, what she was doing there. "You need to move on," that voice always reasoned, "there's nothing for you here" and yet... She thought she saw him move his hand forward and then check himself. But, then again, it may well have been just a figment of her imagination.

He was the true essence of a dream. One so close, yet so far. She was also sure that she represented something similar to him, even though neither had ever talked about it. Not in so many words. Maybe today she could find the courage to bring it up, she had to make the effort.

* * *

Her thoughtfulness wasn't lost on him and, as always, he wondered what she was thinking. When she asked the question, he was half expecting it, as he always did, but was caught off guard all the same: "Why did you marry her?" That simple, yet dreadful, question. That long unasked imponderable that they had tried to ignore. All of a sudden, he had the words needed to express his answer to it. Or so he thought, anyway: "Because I thought I'd never find you."
"...I've been waiting a long time

to fall down

on my knees..."


...In my own time, my own space and on my own terms. I feel so selfish for wanting it, needing it, but soon it will have to be reality, lest I lose my essence amidst the confusion and the upkeep. I don't really mind the helping. It satisifies me to know that I can and am making lives a little easier.


"...I'm here all alone with my feet on the ground

and my face in the air,

waiting for life to begin..."


...Waiting, waiting, waiting. The word is beginning to grate on my nerves. I hear it constantly, everywhere I turn. I wish i could strike it from the English language. The only thing worse than hearing it, of course, is living in its shadow. It sits on my chest, heavy, pushing the air from my body and the optimism from my spirit. t is always with me in the form of this low grade headache that I can never quite get rid of, reminding me that it is ever right behind me, encroaching upon me and preventing me from doing any of the things I want, need, am begging to do.

- L.A.S.

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