The Waiting Room

Practicing patience has always been an uncomfortable subject for him, especially when it seems as if everyone else wants him to hurry up or they’d threaten to leave him behind. And even though it may not be the right thing to do, it seemed logical for him to want to please his followers.

Instead, it feels as if he’s been filed back onto a waiting list; as if his name is right there along with the commoners and peasants and shoved into the corner seat of a large waiting room.

He’s in limbo, a place where no one wants to stay because it makes everyone feel useless, however temporary it may be. He knows that even Time itself has an expiry date, but it’s only apparent when you’re not doing anything. Pacing makes it worse, because it just takes that same time and measures it in footsteps instead of heartbeats and seconds.

So he takes time into his own hands as if he owns it, because surely, anything is better than the place he’s in right now, and he can almost believe himself until he’s told he missed the moment he’d been waiting for all along.


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