Waiting Room — Peter Leight

This is the age of anticipation everybody is talking about, when something is about to happen
that hasn’t even happened yet, and the walls are lined with chairs, there’s a chair next to the
door, on either side of the door where you’re waiting together with everybody else, waiting for
the door to open or waiting for the door to close so you can open it, waiting next to each other, as
if it’s something you earn by waiting—it’s actually happening while you wait, like a delivery
that’s on the way, even though there’s no way of tracking it.  I mean it’s not an accomplishment,
it doesn’t require any effort, not at all, the only effort is in not waiting, the longer you wait the
longer it takes—they’d like you to know it’s easy, like a container that fills up by itself, if it
hasn’t happened it’s only because you’re still waiting, you haven’t finished waiting, it’s the only
possible interpretation.  You don’t even know how long you’re going to wait until you’re not
waiting anymore.  Of course, as long as you wait you’d like to think you’re waiting for
something, waiting to get in, waiting for your turn, like a nervous bird on a perch, waiting until
it’s time, if you’re not getting anything out of it what are you actually waiting for?  You’re
waiting to find out.