Waiting In Line For a Lady by jenn77

It’s the waiting that they dreaded, but he never had a problem with it.

It was a pause to be pensive, to contemplate, to muse. A break from life to just catch up with the whirlwind of the world, a chance to breathe and rest. If weary, it was a time when numbness was forgiven, when imagination could tumble free and escape from the snares of sense, and fascination could weave wild tales of interwoven eras, characters, worldly and otherworldly ideas.

So he waited in line to pay the water bill, looking around and wondering how these faces would look like in the next life, if she’d ever recognize them again, if he’d ever be in a line with them again—for who knew
what. Would they be man or beast? And if beast, what nature of creature would they be?

He peered closely at their eyes, glancing away if they looked back at her. It was all in the eyes, he was convinced, but somehow, still, he couldn’t tell. Something was missing. Or he was missing something.

~Angreek87