Waiting for Them.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The old analog clock in the corner ticked away, slowly but surely towards midday. I sat here, a living statue among a garden of uncomfortable furniture years older than me doing what a statue does best. Waiting. It seemed nobody else would join me in the waiting room, nobody to share the tattered magazines, nobody to converse the most mundane topics with that neither of us would really care about. But, those small things are something I'd taken for granted in the past, sitting here alone on a squeaky leather bench against the wall made me realize that. I felt an ache in my arm as I leaned back, head against the cold, hard wall staring towards the perfectly white ceiling.

Tick. Tock.

Peering around for anything to do my eyes wandered to a small faded coffee table in the center of the room, just out of reach and piled with far too much to hold, stained magazines, overly complicated kids toys, a toy ambulance with dimmed lights still flickering around as the battery ran out. If I ever had a child, would they enjoy this place? This dim, depressing waiting room which desperately tries to be anything but?

Tick. Tock.

The air seemed stagnant as a waft of hand soap and latex with a hint of oil drifted by for the hundredth time, echoed by distant cries from beyond the double doors next to me, wondering when they would burst open with a purpose for myself, delivered by an uncaring soul who has done the same thing a million times before. At least then I would know what would be happening, sitting here with only my thoughts for company was worse than any long day of work, than any other waiting room I'd ever been in.

Tick. Tock.

The sound of muffled discussion came from one of the walls, so soft that I couldn't tell where it truly came from but I listened nonetheless as my curiosity peaked, though to my disappointment nothing could be made out except faint whispers of a scrape, a bruise, something about a car crash. I hoped they were doing fine. Maybe a relative of theirs would join me soon, exposed to the same endless boredom while held firm by the crippling worry for their family.

Tick. Tok.

Pulling out my phone I half-heartedly scrolled through my social media, seeing old classmates posing next to expensive items, new friends talking about something political, an accident on the freeway, but none of it could take away this boredom. This waiting. Putting my phone away after what felt like half an hour I saw the clock had barely moved a minute. Time was determined to become my mortal enemy in this ever worsening room.

Tick. Tok.

The aching continued in my arm as I tried to stretch it out only to receive pain in return. I wasn't young anymore, that was certain, but this amount of discomfort from sitting in a chair was unreal, maybe once I finished waiting someone here to look at it, unless I had to wait again. I should be at a party, a work function getting compliments on my new outfit, not sitting in a waiting room watching life crawl by at a snails pace. The voices returned, louder this time with panic oozing from their words. Couldn't have been an easy job to do, whatever they were doing.

Tick. Tok.

My fingernails dug into the cheap leather, a horrid raspy sound like stone on chalk echoing outward as the sounds continued. I put my ear to the wall in the hopes I could understand what they were saying, but despite the now deafening volume I could hardly get a single word. Blood and iron overwhelmed my taste buds as I bit down on my tongue accidentally, blood trickling onto the formerly perfect floor, the pain relieving my boredom if only for a moment.

Tick.

Tok.

Anything else would be better than this, the agony of waiting. Even the last time I'd seen my mother -  arguing about something that seemed so small now - would be better than another minute here. I thought of all the things I would do if I got out of here, take that writing class I had wanted to do, learn to make my own beer, maybe even start a weekly book club. They were not world shattering events, nor the secrets to life, but right now, in this moment of time, they were what I wanted to do. What I had thrown away the opportunity to do for working another day. For just one more dollar.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The doors opened, the sounds stopped, a slow spread of mist creeping along the pale blue floor as a figure walked in wordlessly, peeking at a clipboard from behind a black hooded robe, no face to speak of, no sound of drawing breath, but they were alive in their own twisted way. After a minute of anxiety, of fingers dug into the cushions below, of toes scrunched into my soles, they spoke:

"Your wait is over. Go, you have a decade or two more in you."

I nodded, feeling my chest heave once more as air returned. I silently thanked the being before turning to leave, thinking of all the things I could do once I got home. I'd need some time off for sure, but it'd all be worth it in the end. Walking through those doors, I came to my senses. My body screamed in pain as I felt the cold, wet asphalt beneath myself, the blood gushing from my forehead as lights swirled above me, strong hands and voices yelling words I could not hope to understand. Slowly, I was moved to a better place to lay, a soft cloud beneath my battered body as doors were closed next to me. Looking up for a moment, I saw the being once more, staring through rain-soaked glass with that same old clock above them.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.