I had been waiting for some time. A tidy oblong coffee table presented the latest magazines. Twin lamps in opposing corners threw uneven light. It was slightly too hot. Institutional blue carpeting, dense and coarse. Unmemorable wallpaper. A throb in my top right second molar. Houseplants, three of them, at intervals, barely wilted. I couldn't tell you what kind. The standard tiled ceiling seemed slightly lower than is conventional. Under my forearm, the green vinyl covering of the chair, slightly sticky. Besides my seat, two others, just like it, and a long bench of similar design. Twin lamps lit unmemorable wallpaper from opposing corners, but I could hear a dull fluorescent hum, from somewhere. My seat faced the receptionist's window. Each of the four walls was exactly the same length, though each appeared to be a slightly different shade of beige. I did not peruse the magazines or other materials. The receptionist seemed to have departed. On closer scrutiny, one of the chairs was marginally lower than the other two. On closer scrutiny, the wall to my right was slightly shorter than the others. This forced it to meet the wall containing the receptionist's window at an almost imperceptibly obtuse angle, which did not appear to disturb the regularity of the angles and lengths of the other walls. The space behind the receptionist's window was darkened. It was unclear when the receptionist might return. One of the houseplants stirred lightly, though I did not feel a draft. There was an insistent ache in my top right second molar. I did not peruse the magazines or touch the houseplants. I shifted from my chair to the empty bench seat, which placed the shorter wall at my back. On closer scrutiny, one leg of the oblong coffee table appeared to be slightly shorter than the other three. As the table surface appeared level, I could only guess at a slight unevenness in the floor or carpeting, though I could discern no such aberration. The twin lamps rested on identical twin side tables, a third, empty, also identical, sat between two of the chairs. It was markedly too hot. A doorway beside receptionist's window lead into a narrow hall, hidden from my current angle. I felt a twinge of pain in my left bottom canine, only briefly. Besides the empty receptionist's window and hall, there were no openings. On closer scrutiny, the oblong coffee table appeared to have two irregular legs, one shorter and the opposing leg slightly longer. From this I surmised a slight slope to the floor and coarse institutional carpet. The ceiling appeared to be considerably lower than is conventional. A twinge in both my first and second right upper molars. It was unclear to me how long the receptionist had been gone. It was unclear to me how long I had been waiting. The insistent hum of unseen fluorescent lighting. I am uncertain as to what kind of houseplants they were. On closer scrutiny, the weave of the carpet appeared to be considerably denser, though no less coarse, at the foot of the wall now facing me. The green vinyl covering each of the three chairs and the bench seat was smooth but for, at intervals, sets of three parallel seams running the length of the surface. On closer scrutiny, the green vinyl of the bench seat was a slightly different shade than that of the three chairs. I am uncertain as to how the dimensions of a room could contain one shorter wall and one obtuse angle without disturbing the regularity of the angles and lengths of the other three walls. My left upper second bicuspid seemed to be hurting, I don't know for how long. I shifted back to my original location, facing the empty receptionist's window, though this time in the shorter of the three chairs, encouraging a slight slouch. Institutional gray-blue carpeting, coarse and dense. The latest unread magazines. Of the three houseplants, what kind I have no idea, two had leaves, one had what I would call tendrils. Both my top and bottom right second molars seemed to be throbbing. The hall next to the receptionist's window was about as long as the waiting room and lit only from the twin identical lamps in opposing corners. Meaning it received only indirect light. It did not appear to have any doors opening from it. The air was still and stuffy. On closer scrutiny, the houseplant with tendrils was what I would call totally wilted. On closer inspection, one of the two houseplants with leaves was actually artificial. No idea what kind it was designed to be. On closer scrutiny, the ceiling was not only markedly lower than is conventional, but sloped almost imperceptibly down towards my side of the room. The standard tiles of its surface were entirely uniform and unbroken in any way. I would imagine that the fire marshal would have something to say about the lack of sprinklers. It was entirely unclear whether the receptionist was ever coming back. There was a chip in the wood of the left edge of the coffee table, leading to a fine crack, hidden until just now by the latest magazines. My left lower lateral incisor was developing an ache. It was entirely unclear to me at this point whether the receptionist had ever been there at all. Unmemorable wallpaper, in slightly different shades of beige. The houseplant with leaves which did not appear artificial may have stirred, though I felt no breeze in the air, which was uncomfortably warm and rather humid. I did not peruse the reading materials or search beneath the seats. I did not attempt to tap on the darkened receptionist's window, which was what I would call obviously uninhabited. On closer scrutiny, the side table without a lamp, just to my right now, appeared to be of a totally different wood grain than the other two. I have no idea what kind of wood. The damp, sticky gray-green vinyl under my left forearm. Probably they are all artificial anyway, and not any kind of wood. It is unclear to me why there would be a hallway without any doors or other openings. The sweltering air. My first and second top left bicuspids, throbbing in sympathy with the hum of unseen fluorescent lighting. My right first upper molar. On closer scrutiny, the hallway was definitely totally useless. The waxy leaves of the artificial houseplant. My left lower canine. On closer scrutiny, the weave of the gray carpeting beneath the bench seat was considerably softer, though no denser or less dense than the rest of its surface. My bottom right first bicuspid. I did not attempt to put the shorter of the three chairs through the receptionist's window. The irregular tear in the vinyl on the underside of the bench seat. In no way did moving the closer lamp from its side table into the mouth of the hallway, providing direct light, serve to illuminate any features I had not previously noted. Which is to say that it illuminated no features at all. My left top central incisor. There was absolutely nothing to be seen in the dark of the receptionist's window. It was unclear to me how the receptionist's window might be operated. The unconventional closeness of the slanting ceiling, whose uniform tiles would not budge in any way when pushed from below with both hands. When carelessly knocked over, the lamp illuminating the hall rolled straight to the back of the room, beneath the shorter of the three chairs, and promptly went out. It is entirely unclear to me how I came to be in this waiting area. With only one lamp, the lighting is what I would call totally inadequate. The uneven density of the institutional gray carpeting. My first, second, and third right upper molars. I do not peruse the reading materials because there aren't any. Knocking on the receptionist's window produces a dull thud and no changes in the darkness behind it. My left upper lateral incisor. There is nothing underneath any of the seating, side tables, or cracked oblong coffee table. Besides the broken lamp. There is nothing inside the tear in the gray-blue vinyl covering of the bench seat. Besides its metal framework. On closer scrutiny, I'm not sure there were ever any reading materials. Latest or otherwise. Both of my lower canines. The nearly unbreathable heat and humidity of the air. All furniture seems to be sagging towards the corner to the left of the blue vinyl seats. The lowest corner. The whine of unseen fluorescent lighting. I move the second lamp to the floor before it can fall. My upper and lower second bicuspids, and the upper first and second molars. They're throbbing horribly. It is entirely unclear to me as to why the gray-green institutional carpeting should vary so wildly in both coarseness and density across the entire floor of the area. My left lower first molar. The damp, soft, shaggy carpet in the sunken corner. When I lift up the shorter of the three blue vinyl chairs, it is slippery with sweat and humidity. Both my lateral and central left lower incisors. The shriek of unseen fluorescent lighting in near-choking air. When I attempt to put the chair through the receptionist's window it bounces off with such force that it pulls me over backwards with it. The slippery damp of the tilting gray-green institutional carpet. My inability to breath in this place. When the chair strikes the lamp, the bulb goes out with a pop. The unbearable noise of unseen fluorescent lighting. When the second lamp is extinguished, the dark of the waiting area is total.