I tear my gaze from my watch to the florescent lights flickering overhead. The man slouching in the corner hacks out a loud wet cough, peering over the folds of his coat as he scrolls through his phone. He glances up at me. I immediately look away. The chatter from the TV mounted on the wall does nothing to distract me from the sound of my own breathing. I swear I'm breathing oddly now, but I'm too conscious of the act to correct it. The brief ring of a telephone is cut short as the receptionist answers a call from behind her desk. I hear her voice, but can't find the interest to listen in. The only other noise is the tick of the analog clock on the wall ahead of me. I look from the clock to my watch. The one on the wall is a bit slow. Or maybe the one on my wrist is too fast. I wonder which is more accurate. I wonder if it matters. I try to tap my foot to the tick of the clock, but can't help restlessly bouncing my leg faster. It doesn't make the seconds pass any faster.
was locked up for crimes against reality. got out by breaking the 4th wall