The wait.

I would go through the doors.
Through the labyrinth on the floor.
Make my way to the machine.
Press the button made of steel.

Take my piece of paper.
Smile towards the maker.
“Please, can I go to the other side?”

Take my seat on the row.
Glance above and glance below.
Nervous fingers tapping on the telephone.

Someone said my name.
“Malin, come with me.”
Walk through halls of white.
Sit down with delight.
Maybe this time I’ll get cured.

I would smile towards the maker.
Throw away my piece of paper.
Through the labyrinth on the floor.
I would go through the doors.

The same as yesterday,
and the day before.

– by Malin Strömberg –

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