Waiting is one of the hardest things in the world to endure.
Waiting feels like the scorching sun burning on your heart, like ants crawling in your mind.
Especially this kind of waiting where you don't know the answer.
"President, do you have a headache? You drank a lot tonight," Elder Axel couldn't help but express his concern to Sylvan Cheney.
"I'm fine."
"It's not clear when she'll come out, but surely it'll be alright," Elder Axel's voice wasn't loud, but in the vast corridor, it sounded particularly profound.
Time passed little by little, and it was as if Sylvan Cheney's heart had been branded, the pain unbearable.
The night was deep, this night was long and lonely.
Sylvan Cheney was waiting, wandering, hesitating, unable to sleep all night.
