The room

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You go in there and wait…

A little girl is tired of playing around, of staring at strangers, of eating candy, of curling her hair, of flipping papers. Her mama asks her to play the quiet game and to stay next to her..
I had my appointment set days ago and my turn is only determined by who came before and after me… All eyes are on whose name is called..

Magazines are spread all over the table, brochures, and a video playing in an endless loop, yet people are in their own bubbles mastered by smartphones…
People exchange looks and steal glimpses and hesitate to start a conversation. May be we have the same story, may be their stories would be scarier, may be they are somehow part of my own…

The clock is ticking…

This time again it is not my name…

So I keep looking around and wondering how many people have been here, have waited for their turn, have heard good news, have heard bad news or have just waited… I try to make my time useful: read a book, refresh my to do list, clean my inbox but the attraction of the human interactions is much stronger than all that and I go back to looking at people around me.

Waiting can never be boring as you always end up finding a companion or a distraction. If these rooms were to talk, I bet they can exceed the Simpsons in the number of episodes to air…

So I leave the waiting room…

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