Five minutes away.

Then six.

Then five again.

Does this driver even know
          where he’s going?

Or worse—
   does he know who he’s driving?

Is he in on it?

Dragging out each red light,
     taking the scenic route
     on streets that don’t need scenery,

     letting time stretch just to test me?

I refresh the app.

Like that’ll help.

Like staring at the blinking car icon
            will pull her here faster.

She’s so close.

I can feel it.

Like static before a storm,
     like heat just before the first touch.

And yet, somehow,
    she’s still not here.

This is a conspiracy.

A crime against timing.

Against longing.

Against me.

Another refresh.

Still moving.

Still crawling.

Still waiting.

And then—
    finally—

    the car stops.

A door opens,
    a breath,
    a second that lasts an eternity.

    There she is.

And nothing else
    in the world matters.