Writing me Down

Monday, July 18, 2005

Waiting Room

His thumbs jogged around each other as he watched his toes shuffling across the patterned carpet. It was as if his soles were attempting to read a map there that his eyes had failed to clasp hold of. Reaching up to his dripping face, his nails limped over his nose, which was kneading itself. Below, an uneven line of teeth winked. His mouth tried to creep across them, as if to hide their glare. When he felt his palms starting to walk through his hair, he snatched his hands away and sat on them. His heels were now chewing the carpet, ten toes blinking up at him. Ignoring them, his eyes started to walk across the carpet, as if scratching around for clues.


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