My stomach grumbles; I drink the tap water to quell it. The walkie-talkie on table, earpiece stuck in my ear. That thing has been in my ear so much these last few days it might as well grow onto me. I still wait, as a couple next to me leaves the restaurant.
I wait for my soba with tempura. Somehow, it does not appeal to me the way it should, especially for the price I'm paying. Oh, it arrives with a nice aroma;my digestive juices start churning.
I look across my table to an empty chair. I'm waiting, as I have been waiting for some time. I turn my attention too my mobilephone. It tells me I have received a message; something its been telling me quite abit these last few days, and I'm the happier for it.
After the flurry of messages on the phone, it suddenly goes dead. Flat-lined. It is unnerving that it does that. I finish my soba; I am full but not satisfied. How long more must I wait? Am I waiting wrongly? I still look across the table to an empty chair.
The phone still stays silent. When should we stop expecting? Is it not that fine, fine line between being wisely prudent and foolishly undetermined? When do you quit waiting?
The boy says wait, the man says screw it and quit. The boy gets hurt more, the man probably doesn't at all. Which am I more? Who may help me make that call?
'Screw it', says the man, 'I'll wait a little more.'
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