Sitting here, waiting for a meeting to begin. Don’t think it’s going to start. I think there’s a chance that the people who organised this are unable to attend, or forgot that it’s happening. Makes me feel important, at least. I’m getting to have meetings to discuss plans and those kinds of things. That’s pretty cool.

So it’s a quiet room. The sound that can be heard is that of my laptop working, and the keys upon which I press my fingers against. This is neat. This is cool. This is boring, but it’s a productive kind of boring, at least.

Sitting here, waiting for things to happen. Don’t think they’re happening. Don’t think things are going to come forward. Don’t want to be spending my time sitting here, and I fear I won’t be notified of the lack of things happening. That do be the way it goes, sometimes.

I could reach out, try to find out what is going on. That’s probably the best course of action. It has been nearly ten minutes. However, I don’t think I will just yet. I think it’s better to wait until fifteen minutes have passed. Give some time, just in case. Bedsides which, there’s still work to be done. There’s still work I need to get out of the way, and I could do that. But I’m also not starting because, if the meeting commences then I can just stop this. If I start work I can stop work as well, but it’s about getting back into the swing. I have less of an issue dropping this and moving on than I do interrupting work and trying to get back into the swing of things after. It’s a balancing act, or something.

Lots of something, really.

So sitting here, typing away. Typing away in silence. A room that is empty. A room that isn’t doing anything. A set of offices that are empty. No one is around. This is interesting, to say the least. Or it isn’t. It just is. A quiet space where people aren’t around, though maybe there are others here and there, looking for where they can come and go. Looking for the space that can be filled, and looking for the space that should be avoided.

Feels like some wasted space here, though it’s a space in flux. Things change and time sees many bodies in one continues line, stretching through an eternity. All massed together, all always separate. Each bit of the past frozen in time, each bit of past a simple snapshot held in frames.

Where to go from here, I don’t know. But it’s nearly fifteen minutes and I’m still typing this, and I think I’ll stop shortly. No one has shown up, so maybe I’ll go looking around, see what is going on. I don’t know. Feels like my time is being wasted now.

Should probably reach out. Should probably. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll find a space to fill.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:00:23

This very much was the stuff of waiting.
Meeting eventually happened though, which was good.

Written at work.