It'll take 35 minutes
He said an hour and a half ago.

So we walk and walk.

The grass at the edge of the road is hardly grass at all.
It looks so pleasant from a car, whizzing by in a green-brown stripe.
But beneath your aching sandals it's more gravel than grass.

We listen for cars, and when one comes by, we can't look at each other
Only at the other person's ankles.

There's no impatience quite like boredom
And there's no boredom quite like watching the next street sign
Getting closer so slowly.

Three becomes two when two sit to rest.
But they go on.
The banter of three becomes the conversing of two.
Then the inevitable question:
Can you keep a secret?