Power Wait.

Jack moved underneath the canopy, his eyes following a right angle upward as the clouds opened up. He had tried various postures -- people-watching, conversing with the chair, tapping the edges of the glass with his fingers, and even blowing air into the bottle's mouth in the hopes of making a note. The drink and glass reoccuringly switched places. He should have brought along a magazine, or a book; how odd it is to wait for nobody, but always think you're waiting for somebody after all.

Link.