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By Cyan Date: 2003 Feb 02 Comment on this Work [[2003.02.02.21.50.10398]] |
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Sitting on the edge of my seat. Biting my nails. Waiting to hear the sound. An echo of some sort. In the quiet stillness of the air. Children play behind me, but I hear nothing. Everything has disappeared. It's only you and me, two burnt hamburgers and an order of fries. Go on. Say it. I see it in your eyes. The crinkles in your forehead. Misty beads of sweat down your neck. Signs of great distress. Please. Tell me. I need to hear it. The waitress will come soon with the check and I fear the chance will be lost with the scribbling of your pen. |