SUSPENDED. ⏲️

It feels like a large metal ball, weighing down the middle of your chest. No, it’s closer to the center of your being. Waiting. There's nothing you can do but surrender to the ambient noises keeping time in new units neither seconds nor minutes.

Details seep in: the faint tinkle of music from a nearby office, the incessant hum of the laptop cart, almost overpowering in its monotony. And then, the occasional rasp of metal bolts sliding through doors, their sound lingering like an unfinished conversation.

Suspended, you are neither here nor there, caught in the liminal space between anticipation and release. Time stretches, folds, becomes something unnameable, yet you remain—listening, feeling, waiting.