Drip. Drip. Drip. Water was dripping from the ceiling to a puddle in the middle of the room. This room was a hollow rectangle, similar to the inside of a shipping container. I woke up on this small cot. Holding this useless paper thin blanket. Across from me were a tall shelf with a single bar of soap, a toothbrush and a small black comb. Standard issue, I suppose. I sat on my cot and looked across the 3 foot hallway. There was a small lady in an identical room. She wore gray sweat pants and a white t shirt. Same as me. “7pm. Please line up.” The voice crackled over an intercom. I walked out and stood in front of my room. There was barely enough space for both the lady across the hall and myself. I could feel her breath. We all turned to my left in a single file. I didn’t get a chance to see how long back the hall went. There were at least 80 people in front of me. All in the same white t shirt and gray sweatpants. Different heights, ages, genders and ethnicities. “Delores Guzman please come to the front.” The voice crackled once more. We all turned to make room for the woman as she shuffled down the hall. She had short, curled fire red hair. She had an aged caramel complexion and was at least 80 years old. I watched her make her way past the crowd until I could no longer see the red tuft of hair moving further away.
Night after night we lined up. After the announcement that it was 9pm, we turned around and were still directly in front of our rooms. The line was moving, but it was moving toward us instead of us walking toward the front. Mira was the name of the woman across from me. She was much shorter and thinner than I am. She was in her mid 50s. She would glare at me with her fierce black eyes. I woke up to her throwing my things in the puddle. She ran out as soon as I woke up. She never spoke to me or anyone. I don’t know if she could.
I woke up today to my toilet paper soaked and laying in the puddle. Mira had her blanket wrapped around her hands and was standing at the edge of the puddle. “Get out!” I screamed. I heard knocking and yelling from other rooms. They were cheering for us to fight. I hope I get closer in line today so I can see this social worker and get out of here.
I heard today that it is a doctor we are waiting to see. I think I’m in the psychiatric hospital. I don’t remember how I got here, but I don’t remember things well when I don’t have my meds. I just keep waiting in line every night from 7pm-9pm.
I don’t know how many days it’s been. There are no windows. I kept count at first, but my marks on the wall kept changing. I think Mira is trying to kill me again.
Tonight I was so close. I could see the first group of people. They squished together in a group of 25 and were all yelling their name and things about them. There were so many screaming at once, I could barely make out any words. People that were still in line started screaming too. I still don’t know why certain people were called early by name. Tomorrow I will be close enough to see the group!
“7pm. Line up” This is it. I’m so close. I’m close enough to hear another announcer voice. This time it sounds like a game show host. “The man you’ve all been waiting for. Every night from 7 to 9. Only here LlVE at Solomon’s Temple. He is the world’s leading medium. The one and only, Mr. Galdur Ambrose!” The people in the group queue all start yelling their name.
I felt my heart fall to the pit of my stomach. We’re waiting to talk to a psychic medium? I don’t understand. Mira was crying silently. The realization hit so hard I threw up. We’re dead. I’m dead. We’re waiting here. A waiting cell.
“9pm. Back in your room.”
Tonight I was going into the group. I was certainly very close. The voice from the intercom appeared as a tall slim man. He explained that we all had unfinished messages to or from our loved ones that we had to exchange through Ambrose. He was the psychic we had been sent to.
My head swirled trying to make sense of what I had just heard. All this time. I’ve waited here so long. My family are atheists. They would never try to send a message to me. They don’t believe this exists.
“If you are unable to send or receive your message, you will be sent to the back of the line to wait again.” The man continued in a well rehearsed manner.
I chuckled in disbelief at my misfortune. I made my way down to the group that night a little after 8:30pm. I just stared at this blank wall with everyone around me yelling their names. What do I do? I was silent for several minutes. Finally, I accepted my fate of the eternal queue line. “MIRA. MIRA!! I shouted out. I could at least use my voice for her. It seems like I have plenty of time for moping around later.