Bright fluorescent lights,
they are now
shining down from above.

The line is long, the wait is on,
it's taken so long and I am
only there
for sugar
and milk.

There is a woman
in front of me,
and we look at each other.

She seems to see it
deep inside me,
she seems so
worried
and
understanding.

Like she, like I, has been there before.
The place where eyes don't shine.
The darkest places that exist in our minds.

She seems to be sad
as I ask her where
she
gets her
hair
dyed.

Then I see the stamps
she passes to the clerk.
A blue, and a white paper.

"Oh, you have kids?"
the clerk asks; she
replies with
a casual
and polite
"Yes."

She is young, barely
older than me,
and I feel the weight
of the room fall
down onto all
the people in line.

I haven't seen her since,
I just hope she's doing fine.