waiting room. i am waiting my turn. others are waiting their turns, as well. each person has come armed with a weapon. the lady across from me has a book. the man to my right has a cell phone. the lady to my left has a cell phone. and... just in case someone forgot their prop, there are four computers against the back wall, three of which are already occupied. we can't be without our weapons and security blankets and defenses. they save us from having to speak with one another. they save us from having to make eye contact. they allow us our own little bubble... invisible, yes... but there. i have my face in my book/phone/computer. you can't talk to me. i am occupied.
i am the only one who has come without a prop. i have no book. i have my phone. but i have never been one to use it for any other purpose than making or receiving a call. i also have a small notebook that i always carry with me... in case i should get a thought i don't wish to forget. shall i pull out my notebook? but... how awkward. it's not as if my muse has just attacked with a slew of inspiration. in fact, i am quite numbed by my surroundings. all i can do is stare wide-eyed at this scene and shake my head (but only to myself, because no one would notice me anyway). though i feel like the proverbial sore thumb because i have no prop, no one acknowledges my presence, or anyone else's for that matter.
i think to myself: if i were to get up and dance like a madwoman, i would get maybe one quick glance from one person or the other before their eyes drifted back to their props.
i ask myself: am i living in the wrong time? or am i in the wrong place?
i hear my name. i have been summoned. i have been saved. this time from my own questions.
