I’ve been here, in this eerie waiting room lightly polluted with coarse leather seats for what’s felt like aeons.

My nerves rise with anticipation each hour, fabricating scenarios that I wished were pipe dreams.

No sound of rigid wheels on hospital beds squeaking down the hall. No sight of the worn cyan scrubs lightly splattered with blood. My mind escapes to wreak havoc amongst my peace.

Despite this, the silence remains

My leg moves on its own.

Up…down…up..down.up.down.up down.

And suddenly it’s the only sound that echos the desolate hall.

It helps for a moment.

Until the scent of disinfectant plagues my sinuses.

Until the sight of the never-ending white walls fails to focus my eyes and before I know it my stomach is weak and I feel light-headed.

How long till your voice plagues these halls?

How long till my tears plague these halls?