Not Yet.

And yes, I’m waiting.

I want time to fast-forward until I’m somewhere else, feeling something else.

According to research, time is what we write about more than anything—even love. Right now, time is all I can think about.

Well, time—and a bagel with truly great coffee.

As for my plan? I’m standing still while time moves around me, quietly telling myself, not yet, as I try to understand the meaning of this wretched delay.

Not yet doesn’t mean never.

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow has to be better.