Way back when.

It's perplexing, the fact that there was not a clock to be found in the waiting room. I suppose having one would add to the people's suffering. The people who actually had an inkling of concern for those they were waiting for, that is. It had been hours. Why I waited so patiently remained a mystery to me.


Footsteps, echoing. I watched as every person in the room held their breath, heads turning. Each anticipating relief, yet fearing devastation. The place stank of mixed emotions and for a moment, I felt lost. What was I thinking, waiting there for a complete stranger? What more could I do for him? What would I say if he woke up? I had no plan, no next step, no words in my head. But an inexplicable force weighed down on me, gluing me to the back-breaking plastic chair. I kept my eyes on the floor. Counting tiles was a worthy distraction. Then, laced white shoes came into view. 


'Miss.' I looked up, already recognizing the voice.


'He asked for you.'


and that's where we ended.  I wonder how it would've went if we hadn't stopped :)