He did not like waiting.
The sensation, interlaced with uncertainty drilled at his brain and made him shiver. He had been waiting at the airport for twelve hours already, half a day. Twelve hour segments had been ground underfoot and had slipped between the cracks below him. The pedestal on which he stood sagged underneath the added weight of both him and his emotional burdens – all self-inflicted sorrow.
“I have to take this,” he said, and answered the call as he walked into the bedroom. He shut the door, muffling his conversation. She listened for awhile, but unable to catch more than a few words here and there, turned back to her book.
The sun drifted lower and cast an orange glow on the room when she realized the conversation had stopped. She started for the bedroom but noticed a shadow on the balcony. She opened the door and stepped into the sunset. He sat on the porch swing but it wasn’t swaying, his head in his hands, his cellular phone next to his leg. She sat next to him and pulled his head out from between his knees to find his eyes wet.
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