January 8

A day late, but not quite a dollar short: That was the story of his life, it seemed. Running behind but still somehow managing to eke out just enough to be considered a success. Or, at least, not a failure. He didn’t know how many times he’d been here before, sitting on the edge of his seat, biting back the urge to scream, fighting his own anxieties for no apparent reason: He hadn’t arrived, he’d never arrive, but at the same time, he’d never drown either. He’d simply continue to be.

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