On time

You are never on time. “I’ll see you in ten minutes” could mean anything
from half an hour to a lifetime or so. It used to bother me a lot. I perceived
your tardiness as disrespectful and still smiled at you, trying to keep my cool.
On the other hand, how could I be angry with you for longer than the blink
of an eye, seeing you shake like an aspen in the wind even though it’s August?
Besides, what’s so admirable about my clock-driven mentality? Perhaps the effort
put into observing the hands of the clock makes it convenient for me to overlook
the stillness of my own.

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