The Waiting Room

rey spadoni

It wasn’t as I recalled it.  Back then, you’d be lucky just to get a seat.  And you always knew you’d be there for at least an hour.  It was a curious thing: the bowl full of lollipops.  It’s as if you’d go to see a pulmonologist and notice him taking a drag on a Winston.

Didn’t fit.

Doctor Spag would great you with the visual equivalent of a bear hug.  He’d remember about your kids, details too, and that you were sick.  No weather or how-bout-them-red-sox.

But I stepped in and was alone there.  Coats no longer competed for the overburdened rack.  Doctor Spag’s greeting was less a hug and more the faint wave.  Lollipops gave way to small packets of waxed dental floss.

I looked around the room and wondered where the coats all went.

We proceed toward this.

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One Response to The Waiting Room

  1. Sherry says:

    Love the image, and the post.

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