Here I sit. Waiting.
Waiting for the brownies to be done. Waiting for the silence to resume. Waiting for my patience to run out.
Like a statue I wait, unabated by my surroundings, completely absorbed into the tippy-tappy of my phone keyboard.
I don't want to walk over and turn on the air conditioning, so I sweat it out. Sitting on the couch, hunched over, like a gargoyle.
But unlike the winged statue, I am not made of granite. I have to move.
Only question remains, to where and how?
(the brownies are not metaphorical)
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