Waiting was painful for this particular girl.

She stared at her inbox for what seemed to be eons, then refreshed the page. Some inane text box popped up, which she quelled impatiently.
It was devoid of new mail.
The page seemed to be mocking her, and she stared it down for a while. It was urgent, this email. She needed the information she knew it would hold.
Refresh. Once again the page was scorning her- what did it contain? A newsletter. She viciously sent it to the junk.
Five minutes, ten minutes, morphing into fifteen. Once more she performed the now-familiar keyboard shortcut of Ctrl+R.
Once more her inbox was same as ever.
In the darkened room, where the only penumbra of light was at the computer desk, there seemed to be a humming- her impatience, buzzing in the night. Almost like a malevolent being. Waiting, waiting to pounce.
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