THU 29 DEC 2011 ca. 2:10 pm X-RAY LAB ON 16th ST.
Women’s voices, the faint sound of a pop song on the sound system behind. The waiting-room is a sandy-tobacco color, consistent with the wriggle of greenish-beige in the indoor/outdoor carpet. There are 14 chairs packed closely in the space; 8 are occupied and one woman stands: an aboriginal, flinging her long dark silky hair, adjusting it before she sits.
Almost everyone is in black; only I wear a blue windbreaker.
“Okay. Thank you so much.” A customer leaves.
“Mrs. Forsyte. Yesterday there was Barb, then there was Irene. . . .”
A middle-aged woman talks to her elderly neighbor, whose voice is faint and trembly. They are doing a crossword puzzle together.
“. . . Practically in one space . . .”
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