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Master.

This odd form of stasis just doesn't move me. It's as though we rushed through something, and now we stand here and wait. But we are not out of breath, bent over, hands on knees, gasping. No. We are just waiting.
I've never been very good at chess, I never stop to think about my opponent's next move, just plough through losing. There's a chance of some calculation on the other side of the board, but I'd wager you are not even thinking about this, how the pieces move, or don't.
My lip biting has replaced twirling my hair around my index finger. I would just be tapping my foot in the air, biting my lip, clearing my throat, rearranging jewelry, until you decided to look up. But I don't know what you're thinking. I can hope that you're just making me wait, that you know what the anticipation does to me. That requires thought, and planning.
I would still be racing, to hurry up and wait, to lose all of my pieces. I would still be nearly breathless just by proximity, bent over, hands on knees trying to catch my breath.

7:33 p.m. - 2013-02-20

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