“Still waiting.”

Alex leaned on the railing, hunched over, chin up. Gazing out at the ocean.

“How long, now? Two years? Three?” Russ shook his wrist, swirling the dregs of a can of Mountain Dew.

“And many more to pass.”

Seagulls screeched excitedly as they fought over morsels on the midday beach. A strong wind rustled through the palm stands, one particularly supple tree occasionally throwing a shadow over the two friends.

“How long are you going to play this game?” asked Russ. “Listen, lunch break’s almost—”

“Maybe I’ll quit.”

“Good one.”

“I’m serious.” Alex stood straight, stretched, and cracked his neck.

“Yeah, and then what’ll you do? Go soul-searching?” Russ snickered, then chucked his drink at the nearest blue bin. The can bounced off the pavement.

Alex walked over to the discarded can, picked it up, and deposited it in the recycling bin. He turned back to Russ and shrugged.

“What do you call someone who waits? A waiter?”

“I call him a dumbass.” Russ put his hands in his pockets and began walking back toward the office. “C’mon, daydream hour is over.”