Four Minutes.

Four minutes.
When you knock on my door, after days of waiting, I usually fly down the hallway and greet you enthusiastically.
But today, I was grouchy.
I was a ball of grumble, who had been waiting for your familiar footsteps for too long.
So, when you rung the bell I kept you waiting.
Four agonising minutes I spent.

I ruffled the cat’s fur and watched it pad away.
I dusted the fake flowers in the corner shelf.
I stared at the clock impatiently, willing the time to go faster,
Relishing the thought of you waiting for me.

240 seconds of excitement.
Four minutes I kept you waiting, day-dreaming about the immediate realisation of my weeklong pining.
I thought of what I might say to you.
I checked myself against the hallway mirror.

Finally, I could hold it no longer.
I opened the door tentatively, and was first puzzled,
You were looking beyond me,
Through me- and my heart began to flutter
Slowly, it began to pound in my ears, as you threw an apology at my face.

You rushed up the stair cases, pangs in my chest because it’s the opposite direction from where I wish you would be.

Dreams lay as cold as my perfect-made tea, with leaden limbs I shut the door after you.

In that four minutes,
I had given you to remember me, you spent cursing for,
They were the only four minutes you could have spared for me.

I watch you disappear, your taillights laughing at me.

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