The Waiting Room by Anushka Bhatt

 The Waiting Room

by Anushka Bhatt

The chairs are stiff, the walls too white,
A flicker of nerves under fluorescent light.
I scroll, I tap, pretend I’m zen,
But the buzzing in my chest won’t bend.

Heartbeat ricochets in plastic seats,
Sneakers squeak down antiseptic streets.
Clipboard clutched like a nervous prayer,
I count the tiles, inhale sterile air.

What if the news reshapes my name?
What if the ache earns a crimson frame?
A diagnosis whispered under breath—
A label that spells a little death.

“Next!” they call. My spine goes ice,
But courage blooms—its asking price.
I stand, exhale, step through the door;
Healing starts when fear hits the floor.