Jeannie Dawn Coffman

"The Lives We Carry Quietly"

I noticed them the way you notice someone without meaning to –when the room is too still and your mind starts counting small things. A waiting room has its own kind of silence, broken only by the hum of fluorescent lights and the shuffle of paperwork at the front desk. They sat a few chairs away, hands folded, eyes fixed on nothing in particular, as if they were trying not to take up space. There was a brief awkwardness in their eyes when another stranger entered.