“When you are courting a nice girl, an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That's relativity.” --Albert Einstein, News Chronicle, 1949
Lola sat, immobilized, on her couch, as stripes of late afternoon sun streaked in through her living room window.
How slowly time sometimes passes, she thought.
The telescope of time.
Look through one end, and the seconds, up-close, magnified, drag on so slowly that nothing changes, nothing happens—minutes are weeks. Reverse the telescope and look through the other end, and years, like scurrying ants, speedily scramble by.
Lola wanted something, anything, that would anchor her in ‘real’ time, daily time, the time of the clock, but she knew that in moments like these, she lived in slow motion--life barely carried on—and there was nothing she could do about it, but sit here and wait…wait for something, or someone.
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