She waited at the corner of the bus stop. She was so nervous that she almost put her hand above her heart, which – at this point – resembled a bass drum more than any internal organ she forgot she possessed. Ten minutes turned into half an hour, which eventually turned into a full hour of pure anxiety, rapid pacing, sweaty palms, and jittery movement. She couldn’t take it anymore and left, wondering why she even bothered to show up.

Had she stayed but a few minutes more, she would’ve noticed him walking towards that bus stop. His face fell deeper and deeper as he approached it. He knew she had already gone. If only he could have walked a little faster to stop her from losing all faith, but that’s not the way timing works, is it? He reached the stop and turned around, knowing that she wouldn’t come back.

It’s a simple equation, really. Enough faith plus good timing equals the perfect moment. But it’s also not that simple either. We give up on faith and ruin the timing, just minutes before the perfect moment arrives.

We just don’t know any better.


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