I have been waiting with beads of running down my temple. The anxiety thumps in my veins with a maniacal and rhythm-less beat. I chew the insides of my cheeks and continue my battle through time. I pray for things to go my way, though a little nagging voice says it isn’t going to happen. And yet I wait. Through doubt, anxiety and what seems to be the worst form of self- torture. Soon, my hyper- sensitive senses pick up on a sound. The sound of an envelope sliding through the slit for post in the front door. I run from the carpet in the living room where I was wearing down a noticeable tread, and reach with trembling hands for the crisp white envelope with my name on it. I open it with apprehension, as my doubt conjures up the image of bad news blowing up in front of me. Somehow, through the haze of the imaginary smoke, I open the letter and see the words “Pass” in clear typewritten font. Ho! Look I passed the test. That’s a relief, phew!!! And I had been worried for nothing. “And so it will be, until next year”, says that villainous nagging voice again. Recent fear surges up again, till the boldly printed “Pass” reassures me and advises me to cross that particular bridge when it comes.

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