Lingering

Laying on stomach,

Observing painted nails

Glistening under the rays of the noon sun,

I listen for the sound of her arrival.

My ears prick up at the faintest, smallest of sounds —

The sound of the clock ticking in the living room;

The hurried steps of someone who is clearly going to miss the bus;

The voices of elated children playing catch;

The buzzing of a fly that has just entered through the window.

When will she be here?

The pot of chili on the stove is getting colder.

The calls are not going through.

Reheat. Retry. Repeat.

I should wait a little longer,

Hold on for a bit,

Stay until the color of the nail paint dries, chips.

The clock in the living room emphasizes on my waiting period.

Time passes dully, knowing I will wait forever.

It’s time to reheat the chili.

---

Fariza Farid Memon is an emerging writer from Pakistan. She is passionate about reading fiction, writing poetry and short fiction based on nature and the human condition, and drinking tea. In her spare time, she enjoys watching clumsy cats.