The Waiting Room Wall

Red's Wrap

waiting room wall

In the waiting room, we drift. We get up to go to the bathroom. We appreciate the automatic flush. We dry our hands with two towels and appreciate that, in the mirror, we look almost like we did when we first came to the waiting room that morning.

We study our phones and look at TV and we doze, leaning our heads on our hands and closing our eyes. We fold our arms and lean our heads back on the sofas and then look up at the other people and the TV on the far side of the room with the sound muted. How will we know what time it is?

It is as if we are drugged, something in the air that slows our heart rates and makes every move fluid and timeless. We brighten when the young nurse in green scrubs, her mask unhooked from one ear, exposing…

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