The Weight of Wait

He drummed his long fingertips impatiently on his cherry wood desk and glanced furtively at the time that displayed on the bottom right of his computer screen. This was insane, he realized, and yet, he couldn’t help reaching into the back pocket of his tailored pin stripped suit to retrieve the tiny silver cell phone from his back pocket which indicated that he did not, in fact, miss any calls. The display screen pictured a snapshot of Missy, his Bull Mastif, and his NO CALLS sign blinked furiously from underneath her hearty face. Frustrated, he jerked open the top left drawer and tossed the little device in, determined to not give her another tought.

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