It’s in God’s hands now.
// HOUR 72 — 9:24 PM //
I whisper to Darryl:
“If he doesn’t text… then it’s fine.
“Everything’s fine.
“It’s exactly how it was supposed to be.
“A good time. My Blur Hour.
“It’s better for me if he doesn’t text.
“I mean, we didn’t sleep together.
“There’s no reason to be weird about this.
She says to a baby carrot,
while actively being weird about this.
// HOUR 73 — 9:30 PM //
“We’ve officially reached hour 73.
The night skies are mostly clear, with a 90% chance of me losing my dignity before midnight.
Winds of delusion are picking up from the west, and sources confirm he still hasn’t texted.
Experts say‘hour 73’could mean anytime within the hour. Meaning—I could be waiting another sixty whole fuckin’ minutes.
Which is blasphemy.
In other news:
Greg, the Office Light, is still on.
Darryl’s asleep.
Fate may be drunk.
Back to you, God.
// 9:41 PM //
No Andrew.
I’m that GIF of the guy sitting on the park bench, staring at his watch.
// 9:55 PM //
If he doesn’t text by ten, I’m done.
He had his chance.
I don’t lose sleep over men.
