Observations

If I ever run into you, the conversation should also be running for its life, screaming for help. My thoughts are slow, but my goodbyes are Olympic. Saves time for thinking, you know.  Nothing dies slower than a meaningless conversation, so I do it a favor and kill it quick.

But I’m not pretending I’m above it. I do know people who treat goodbyes like background noise and dive into a story about their uncle’s dog. Five minutes after I’ve already said goodbye, somehow I’m starring in 101 Goodbyes and Counting.

Walk into any waiting room and you’ve entered a silent play. No one bought tickets and yet here we are, actors and an accidental audience rolled into one. The set is simple: padded chairs, a coffee table, a stack of outdated magazines, and maybe a plant that’s seen better days. But the real show isn’t the decor. It’s the faces.

There’s the leg-bouncer, foot tapping like they’re auditioning for a speed metal band. Across from them, the Phone Absorbed, locked in battle with Candy Crush, looking up only when someone calls their name. Then you have the Deep Sighers, who want everyone to know they’ve been waiting forever, which is…10 minutes, to be precise.

If you have to think about which hand goes where, maybe just stick to waving. I’ve had firmer handshakes than some of the hugs I’ve received. And they never stop coming. Have you ever been hugged with the energy of someone trying not to spill their coffee? Yeah, that. The art of the almost-hug isn’t new. It’s just consistently confusing.

There’s a very specific choreography to the almost-hug. One hand lands somewhere around your shoulder. The other drifts downward and rests, for some reason, on your stomach. Or worse, just above it, telling you not to come any closer. The emotional equivalent of clicking “remind me later”. And you go like “Do I look like a Windows update?”. But it doesn’t end there. After they’re done with this gesture hug, they pat. They always pat. Like you’re a dog who did a decent job sitting still. I am just glad most of them don’t have cookies on them.