It was past
6 o’clock. He was 12 minutes late for the appointment.
Since the
hour changed he couldn't be on time anywhere. “It messes me up” he claimed,
whenever faced with is lack of punctuality. But the fact remained: he was always
late, one hour more or less, sun shining or not, in a distance or in the next
room, he was never on time, always the last to arrive, always “messed up” with
the hours and minutes and seconds of a day.
That
evening was no exception. He arrived 12 minutes late and someone else had taken
his place on the doctor’s office. “You’ll
have to wait sir” said the receptionist, “Please take a seat”.
And so he
did, unwillingly. “12 minutes is not a delay” he thought “I arrived on time for
the first time in my life and I’m passed over, for Christ sake! I should make a…”
The door
opened. She was wearing white, a soft knitted coat and a floral perfume. He got
breathless. She said “Hello.” and sat across the room. He stared, couldn't take
his eyes of her. That perfume stopped his reasoning, like a shock,
something on that moment froze time and space. He shivered and burn at the same
time, without reaction.
She grabbed
a magazine. He stared. She glimpsed at him and smiled. He panicked. She noticed
and fixed her eyes on his. He felt the burn getting harder. Time passed, minutes, hours, who knew, until...
“Mr.
Paxton, you can come in now.” He didn't move an inch. “Mr. Paxton? Sir?”
Finally he
smiled. “Would you wait for me?” he asked, as he passed her on the way to the
office. “Why?” she replied. “Because this could be my lucky day in hell…”
