He could feel the tension building. Folding his hands into his lap, he desperately tried to resist the powerful urge to fidget. The minutes dragged on. He watched as people rose from their chairs and departed, two or three at a time. He bowed his head and concentrated on slowing his breathing. Hearth racing, hands shaking, mind reeling with thoughts of the inevitable consequences that would spiral out from the rapidly approaching confrontation. The young man sought solace in the core of his being. He let the chaotic cacophony of noise wash over him. But peace was an elusive creature this night. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Checking the time had become routine for him, but it was particularly dull and meaningless now. The display blinked on. The numbers didn't register in his mind, save for the awareness that the minutes were ticking by even slower than normal. That was understandable, considering the importance of the evening, but frustrating all the same. the man was having to force his hands together to control them. His stomach began roiling. The more strength he exerted to control his restless body, the more the tension built. His will hurtled towards the breaking point. He eyed the double doors, longing to burst through them into the freedom that lay beyond. He wanted to run. Flee from the impending conflict. Fly like a bird pushed before a brewing storm. But he was unable to rise, unable to fly away. He was firmly rooted to his chair by the knowledge that the approaching storm must certainly be weathered. As a ship turns into a raging hurricane, seeking the quiet calm of the eye, so he, too, was turning to face one of his worst fears. Failure. The word echoed off the confines of his mind. Failure. He knew it was true. Failure. He would face anything aside from this. Please Lord! He silently prayed, please take me from here.
Shoes appeared before his eyes. Instantly, his mouth went dry. His heart roared like an enraged lion imprisoned in an iron cage. His hands shook in his lap. His stomach tensed into a rock-hard knot. Moments before, he had wanted time to speed up. Now he only wished for more time. He raised his head and lifted his eyes. She really was there. The hourglass in his head emptied the last grain of sand and became still. Time was up. He summoned his voice from the far away corner to which it had fled. He began speaking, hoping that his voice would remain steady. The one-sided conversation was brief. The words spilled from his mouth. His brain shut down. He slowly rose from his chair. His tired legs carried his shattered mind from the building. A friend smiled and said hello. How could she even imagine what had just taken place a few feet away? The broken young man drifted to his faithful green steed. Keys fumbled in his hand. At last, the lock clicked up. He grasped the handle and stumbled into the vehicle. The young man, broken in spirit and only just grasping onto the will to live, curled into a ball and bled tears.
~The Piebald Penguin
