Twenty minutes. It’s was almost time. The second hand ticked in a staccato rhythm, almost inaudible to her ears. Her bid was in. Now what? What was she supposed to do for twenty minutes while she waited for the auction to end? The sinister numbers glared at her from the illuminated square in front of her. She shifted on the rigid wooden seat, berating herself for once again forgetting to buy a cushion on the way home from work. Perhaps she should do a chore of some sort. Time wasn’t going to crawl by any faster from simply staring at the screen.

She stood up, darting one more nervous glance back at the screen before heading for the closet. She opened it and a veil of dust danced in the murky air. Batting it from her view, she reached for the vacuum. The lighted figures on her plastic digital watch caught her eye. Fifteen minutes, that was all the time that had passed. The second hand on the grubby wall clock behind her seemed to have increased in volume. After jamming the plug into her overstuffed power strip, she flicked on the power button in defiance, determined to block out all sound.

She made several laps on her brown shag carpet. The droning of the dirt sucking machine still did not block her thoughts. What if someone outbid her? What if the seller never sent the item? She was a little low on dough at the moment. She needed a new microwave badly and the used one being showcased was the cheapest she could fine. Well, it was the one that had the lowest bid. Unable to contain herself, she glanced back at the dilapidated kitchen clock. Only seven minutes left. She glanced around to see how much of the room was left and grimaced when she realized she had been going in circles for the last few moments.

This was pathetic. Deciding vacuuming could wait, she opted to pour herself a cup of now stone cold coffee. Going to take a sip, she paused. Something stronger was in order. She dug her nigh empty bottle of Jack Daniels out of the matte black cabinet and poured it into the chipped red and white mug. Letting the pungent smell drift up towards her nostrils, she drank it down in one gulp. One minute left. The clock glowered at her. Where did all that time go?

Her mug missed the counter and splintered in an explosion of porcelain on the checkered linoleum as she scurried over to her computer. Her mind went into overdrive when she saw that she was outbid. With seconds to go, she charged through the pages. Entering her bid of twenty, the clock thrummed in her ear creating a syncopated rhythm with her heart as it seemed to skip a beat now and then. “Congratulations, you won the bid!” She sighed with relief as the timer counted zero. In a haze, the whiskey having taken affect, she went through the process of paying for the microwave. The confirmation receipt appeared on her screen. Her jaw dropped in horror at the charge of two thousand dollars. In her haste, she had forgotten to add a decimal.

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