Nobody has asked me anything in here for seven months.
Tonight the man mopping the far aisle moved his sign and said — you finished?

Not yet.

You've been on that rack since I started this end.

Then he mopped the next square and left me holding it:
ninety minutes, and I had not felt one of them go past,
and a stranger with a mop had done the arithmetic I had been avoiding all week.

The Book of the Ghost — Wall 37:7