"Waiting with Tom Waits"

Word count: 300

Peter sits hunched over in a black chair outside the HR manager's office, clasping his hands so tightly together all the blood pools to the tips of his fingers. His eyes wander to what appears to be a portrait of Tom Waits hanging in a fake gold frame on a wall across from him. Why is there a portrait of Tom Waits here? This is a distribution center that picks, packs and ships pajamas manufactured in Taiwan.

"Concentrate you fool, you're the one who asked for this meeting!" Peter whispers to himself, even though the reception area is empty except for three additional black chairs, a coffee table festooned with thumbed through pamphlets, a plastic formica plant and Tom Waits under the hum of the florescent lights.

"This is a mistake, I should say I was just asking about my insurance plan and get out of here. Insurance! I wouldn't have any health insurance, no dental! Something could happen, I'd end up broke and on the streets. God I'm so stupid!" Peter says less quietly as he smacks himself forcefully in the right cheek.

His face now stinging, Peter pictures himself alone in his cramped studio apartment. The hours spent doom scrolling on Twitter and Facebook, the fake humor he masks himself with when talking to friends, all those nights browned out drinking to avoid confronting the fact that he's 35 and has no calling in life. Peter looks up, hands still clasped as he gazes at Tom Waits.

"I don't know what to do next, but I'm not going to figure out anything packing PJ's ten hours a day. I don't want to be here."

Snapped back to reality by the door opening, Peter looks up to see the HR manager.

"Peter, thank you for waiting. Come on in."