They glance at each other
Silently, they appraise each other
None is in the mood to talk
Each lost in his own thoughts.
They sit, each tick of the clock
Multiplying the beat of their heart
Nobody knows what to expect
Each afraid of what they would hear.
The door opens slightly
They glance in, trying to get a glimpse
They can’t read his expression
They feel like sheep to the slaughter.
The first goes in
She looks back for reassurance
There is none
Her legs wobble.
The door is shut
They return to the worn magazines.
Their minds unable to see the pictures
The tension is palpable.
It seems an eternity
She finally re-appears
They all sigh.
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