5:30

He looks at the clock. It reads “5:00”.
He is a little anxious.

“5:15” and he taps his fingers on his desk.
His colleagues wonder if woodpeckers ever get headaches with all the tapping they do.
Tap. Tap. Tap.

It’s 5:25. A bead forms on his temple. An ant below drowns in the dead sea.

5:29. Click/Click. The computer gives its final whurrr.

5:30 arrives! The battle won, he THRUSTS his hands up in the air, and dashes out for a celebratory drink with friends.

9:30 prompts another sip of that beer.
    And he remembers 5:30.
        And the victory.
            But he sighs;
                for in another 11 hours another battle will ensue.

But wait!
    time stops!

as 34-24-34 walks by.