Said with a smile at the pharmacy counter, at the DMV window, and on the call that was booked as a quick sync. The other side hears permission and uses every minute of it. The wearer stays polite, keeps the smile, and gets measurably older: two refills, one printer jam, a system that is just slow today, and a lunch break that ends before the line moves. Nobody in this story is rude, which is the problem. The patience is real and it is running out at roughly the speed of a calendar. Status update: still here, still waiting, still saying it is fine.

THE FINE PRINT

TAKE ALL THE TIME YOU NEED arched over a vintage etching of a skeleton sitting bolt upright in a red-brown wooden armchair, hands draped over the armrests, feet flat on the floor. A cobweb runs from the skull to the chair post. I'LL BE AGING across the bottom in heavy distressed slab capitals.