Between Heartbeats and Ceiling Tiles

Plastic chairs like tired soldiers

lined up beneath buzzing lights.

Flicker. Flicker. Flicker.

The clock ticks

loud enough to drown whispers.

Peeling paint curls

like old paper memories.

A woman coughs somewhere,

sound swallowed by the hum.

Time stretches thin, a stale breath

caught between heartbeats.

I count tiles, crack by crack,

and watch shadows crawl

where hope is quiet,

waiting with me.