I’ll wait for you. Come back. The words were not meaningless, but they didn’t touch him now. It was clear enough- one person waiting for another was like an arithmetical sum, and just as empty of emotion. Waiting. Simply one person doing nothing, over time, while another approached. Waiting was a heavy word. He felt it pressing down, heavy as a greatcoat. Everyone in the cellar, everyone on the beach. She was waiting, yes, but then what?
– Atonement, by Ian McEwan