daily – 19

It processes for a bit, the counter spinning uninformatively. Security keys always do, I know, but it doesn’t stop the moment from feeling a little anti-climactic. Not sure exactly what I was expecting, but this apparently wasn’t it. Something other than this totally normal process, I suppose.

The pretzel bag is empty when I reach for it, reminding me, and my stomach, of the Indian food waiting downstairs. I consider the spinning counter for a few more moments, and argue with myself over the virtues and vices of a watched pot.

I’m jumpy now, though, a bit anxious, and I know the best thing to do is to do something else, so I pull myself up and head downstairs, though not before stopping at the doorway for another look, just in case. In vain.