Quiche Wall

The room was packed, a humming, loud affair,

with plastic smiles and vapid jokes in air.

I stood beside the tray, a solid block,

ignored by every single passing clock.

They chattered on, a blurry, vibrant din,

as if I wasn't even standing in

the space they filled. A shoulder bumped my arm,

reaching for food, not caring who they'd harm.

The mini quiches sat there, small and neat,

a perfect barrier, bitter, almost sweet.

I watched them laugh, then bite, then talk some more,

wishing myself right out that office door.