Waiting for him, waiting for herself to catch up to the moment, she sipped her cup of coffee in an uninterested manner. No one noticed her, remarkably mundane as she was, sitting by the mural of abstract art, lost in her own world of abstract thought. A scratch...the door always made a scratch when someone entered. Only she knew how hard it was to focus all of one's energy upon one sense while attempting to retain a care-free countenance. The question was: would she stay or would she hide?

Across from her sat an old man, whose face seemed to portray all his life's hardships and joys, yet hide his present feelings. He had waited for someone some long time ago. Now she waited for him. Now he had only death to wait for. Silence...death only came when it was completely silent. He strained to listen for that nothing which would mean release. A face void of life, a mind full of death. And no one could ever understand the uncertainty within his soul.

The slowly setting sun cast a shadow upon the close couple in the corner. He waited for her words, she awaited his. A breathe...they'll take a breathe before they speak. They filled the inner silence they shared with meaningless discourse on the subject of modern art. The chance was still not lost. Each wanting the same, neither willing to relenquish their hold on their previous life. There was never a couple like this. Never.

I stood behind the counter, immersed in a novel. The characters would fall in love and eventually die. I glanced at the clock. I prayed for the hour to come quickly, yet wished it would never come at all. Fear...change is allways accomponied by fear. And I wanted them all to feel my reality, and I wanted to feel all their pain and longing. I wanted this to be eternity.

And the hours bled on...

The title was taken from a line in the poem Clouded Sky.