Time passed by second by second.
With the ticking of the clock in the corner of the room, the rhythmic sound of the second hand echoed repeatedly in the waiting room, each tick like a strand of spider silk raised.
Those invisible strands of spider silk floated in the air, falling upon the two of them, entwining layer upon layer... until eventually, it felt like an impervious cocoon.
From the silence there arose an indescribable suffocation.
Six hours later, and another six hours...
The soft, comfortable sofa also seemed to turn into an iron anvil, and each tick of passing seconds felt like the relentless pounding of an Axe and hammer, the hope gradually withering away in collision after collision.
Several times, Tobio clenched his fist in anger, wanting to stand up.
But it seemed like he didn't have the strength to support himself, futilely releasing his grip, patiently waiting, patiently waiting, patience, waiting.
