Usnavi angst... Hopefully you guys can figure out what's going on here...
Usnavi's eyes were trained on the clock by now, watching the little red second hand tick away another wasted moment. Sweat covered his brow, and he shifted from foot to foot impatiently. Sometimes he would hum to himself, the disjoined melody calming him somewhat.
He tried to distract himself by reading the posters lining the walls, walking up and down and standing so close he could have melted into the pictures if he had pushed himself hard enough. He tried reading every one of the seventeen magazines lining the coffee table, but found that nothing inside was interesting enough to capture his attention. He tried listening to the elevator music that was playing softly from the speaker in the ceiling, but found the simple melodies too complex to follow, not because he could not, but because he found himself incapable.
So he watched the clock, eyes watching the red second hand as it kept moving, never ceasing in its endless ticking.
He did not notice when the nice woman in the white dress who had given him a soda came back into the room. He did not hear her whisper to Abuela and did not see her retreat back into the hallway where he was not allowed.
But he did notice when Abuela pulled his thin frame close to hers, enveloping him in an embrace that smelled of flowers and cinnamon and sweat. He felt her tears on his shoulder.
Usnavi did not realize that his eyes had fogged over until he had collapsed like a baby in Abuela's arms, tears streaming down his cheeks and screams tearing at his throat.
((Time))