Purgetory didn’t seem like a waste of time. At least when she considered the hours which evaporated in lines at the DMV or the grocery store or at the lone streetlight on Main Street on gameday. In comparison waiting for one’s fate seemed worthy of a good wait. The kind of waiting room wait that offered a cool drink from a gurgling water tank and the constant streaming of decades old music from an unseen source. These kinds of judgements mustn’t be rushed. She chuckled to herself at this last thought. For her rush to judgement is exactly what caused her to reach for that shotgun in the first place.