Waiting / Before the awakening

  I sit in a small lobby reflecting light from the gray polished concrete floor. Pentatonic sound bounces from the hard surface in amplified waves. It is February and I am not alone, others wait too. The door from outside opens to allow another to enter in a wave of cold morning air. A loud cough awakens the room, and what might be echoing in the agitated air?  China Breeze?

  I have a constricting thought of a paper mask with tight rubber strings cutting into soft skin around my ears, it would be a comforting embrace. I try to hold my breath and take in smaller sips but it is impossible. I breathe, we all breathe as we listen to the discordant harmony coming from different parts of the room. Each chair holds a member of the choir.  I don’t feel like singing right now. I fear a new song will come later.