Once the mind becomes anxious, time seems especially long.
Norman Douglas's thoughts were restless as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it for himself.
He took a drag from the cigarette, faintly hearing laughter from inside the house. His fingers trembled, and the ash fell in a flurry.
The laughter was both unfamiliar and familiar...
Norman's expression froze for a moment.
His wife had been depressed for nearly two years, how long had it been since he heard her laugh?
Norman stared at the house, urgency in his eyes, wishing he could see directly through the walls to find out what Purple Summers and Mrs. Douglas were saying and doing right now.
At that moment, the white door finally opened again—
Mrs. Douglas came out holding the baby to see Purple Summers off.
The five-month-old baby looked plump and fair, with Mrs. Douglas holding up its chubby little hand to wave goodbye to Purple.