I have waited on things before. The call, the knock, the message, the notification, the minute. It is never the same. Never the same nervousness. Never the same anxiety. Never the same electrified silence. As I sat cooking in the noon day heat, the wind stopped to bask in the sun. The open windows could not draw the cooler air. The sweat run down my face. The reek was all I could smell. Yet my face watched a screen while my ears strained for word through the phone. The new row appeared before the buzz shook the desk.