The Waiting Room

“The place that terrifies you” prompt

A pair of gloves and a magazine
abandoned or forgotten
by a rushed stranger
who, unlike me,
has left the tight waiting room,
this semi-existent place
where you can’t talk too loud,
you can’t move too quickly,
you can’t stare for too long.

A space outside life
exact cut between here and there,
soft boundary between identities
between who I was outside
and who I will play inside.

I feel the anxiety raising up my calves
like a serpent creeping under my skirt.

I fix my gaze on the hands of the clock
without perceiving the time
only its movement,
each tick pushing me to act,
to move, to scream, to plea for this to stop,
to smoke, to spit, to laugh out loud,
to start my speaker phone,
to flip over the chairs,
to open all the windows,
to pour myself some beer.

Then cowardly I smile
and reach out for a flyer,
swearing I won’t come back.

Ana-Maria Schweitzer

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