There's this saying that when one becomes time conscious, time in essence becomes conscious of the person. Yeah I know, it sounds cheesy.
But as I became conscious of every second that passed in silence, each second dragged as if it knew that I was counting.
Richard himself knew that I was waiting, he knew that I was expecting his next words, that my future hinged on it and so he stalled.
I wasn't really surprised, I knew he was petty and my words must've struck a chord. It was obvious from the way he was staring at me that he wasn't used to being spoken to like I just did.
He stared at me like a tiger waiting to pounce on a prey. His dark pools glazed
with hate.
The intensity of his gaze was like hot coals burning me where I stood. I shifted from foot to foot, careful not to allow my motion to squeak across the surface of the polished maple floors, like the very ground I was standing on was molten rock.
