Four Seconds, Apparently

End of shift. Jackets on, one of us already standing. Simone asked me something, the kind of question that sounds casual and is not, and I stood there for a full four seconds before I said anything. I know it was four because she counted them. Out loud. One. Two. Three. Four. Then looked at me like that was the most information she had ever received.

The question was about someone who comes in on Tuesday afternoons and has done so, with a reliability I have definitely not been clocking, for about six weeks. I don't know anything about them except the order, the jacket they seem to own in two colors, and the fact that they once held the door for someone who was clearly not going to make it in time and waited a full, generous, unhurried moment. That's the inventory. That's the whole thing. Simone apparently considers this sufficient data for a direct question and a four-second waiting period.

the moment before the four seconds

I told her what I told her. She looked out the window for a second and then said something I'm still thinking about, which is that noticing a jacket in two colors is not the same as noticing a jacket. I'm not sure she's wrong. The cord is still on the windowsill. The prints are still against the kitchen wall. There is apparently room in the apartment for one unresolved observation.

after the four seconds

She did not follow the question with 'you should do something about it,' which I am noting. The naming-without-recruiting posture, alive and well. Four seconds. Counted out loud. I'm going to be thinking about this for a while.