in a meeting in a small room and you want to throw your trash at the other side of the room.

it’s a small room for some. it’s not that hard to stand up, go to the corner and throw it down the bin.

but not for you.

as soon as you see the distance, it just gets farther. it’s as if the room itself multiplied its space 10 times.

your chair clings on to you as if its weight is connected to your body. with its pegs all drilled down to the floor.

the eyes of everyone, oh dear, their judging eyes once you do decide to stand up and walk, you’d feel as if they were just waiting for you to make a mistake. to trip and fall, to spill the coffee you were holding on to your shirt because we all know it’s not the caffeine that makes your hands quiver.

you wait. you wait till everyone in the room goes out.

you, holding that piece of trash in your hand, unlatch yourself to your chair, walk calmly and quietly towards the bin, giving one last glance at the trash you held as if it were the only witness that could tesify the whole story.

you let it go and walk out of the room.