Fugue #149

- Still nothing, Neil?

Pause, a patronizing look down the street from the balcony, an eye roll, and a head shake.

- No.
- Nothing?
- You need to relax.

Zig Ziglar sits in his favorite chair. The afternoon sun streamed into the apartment through the open doors to the patio. May, New York City - fresh air, and everything is coming to life again, finally convinced that summer is coming.

Neil Marbell paces the patio, then stops for another look down. There are pigeons on the wires; they’re waiting, too.

- It just seems like they’re late.
- They’re not.

Two voices, over the city’s sounds, laughing. Marbell turns to Zig, who walks onto the patio, leans over the edge of the balcony, whistles and waves.

- They’re here.
- They’re here.