most people I know had been waiting for her to show up, checking again and again, finding nothing but empty black and some sparkle. she was one hour late that night. classic. it’s hard to explain why, but we all did this at least once a month. waiting was part of the pleasure. wasn’t it you that said a series of long silences that can be wonderful? maybe things between us changed that night as I stared out waiting. something had slipped off my hands and I couldn’t help but watch it get further away. i hoped for a crack, a slam, a noise. nothing. some people claim to have seeing her that evening, not alone and heavy. some people are still standing in the same spot, waiting. waiting and watching: our oldest form of amusement. how do you know if you’re being hypnotized? I guess I’ll catch you next cycle.