Patience

Toe tapping, the beats of an anxious drum. She watches the clock keep time, taking its sweet time to reach a quarter to 4. Can't arrive too early--don't want to look overly eager. She is eager. Eager to prove that she is worthy of a job that doesn't require the sizzling of grease to be in her ear for the whole day. Tick tick. The second hand mocks her. The minute hand is lingered for eons on the 8. Fuck it. She grabs her jacket. She ends up waiting for her the interview in her car.